Never Say No
by fiona249
Summary: Years after the war, Hermione and Draco have moved on. They have families. They're at the top of their respective fields. But sometimes things happen you're not prepared for. Sometimes you can't say no.  Totally canon compliant. Ron-lovers, don't read.
1. Decisions

_**13 Years Earlier**_

"Look at that," hissed a builder gleefully. "She's started jogging _again_." Immediately all three other workmen turned and looked desperately around for the young woman they'd been staring at for the past three hours. Their work was incredibly boring – they'd been building and rebuilding this office complex for the past five years, and seemed set to continue for the next fifteen.

"She musta done this block a hundred times," marvelled Ed, the youngest worker. He stared avariciously at her. "This bird might be hot, but she's crazy."

Matt, the eldest, nodded wisely. "Crazy bints are the best in the sack. I'm thinking of talking to her – if she needs to burn off this much energy, she can't be getting much at home."

"You and a hottie like that?" jeered Ed. "No way, I'm talking to her!"

"She's gone," interposed Jed, the most logical of the crew.

"She'll be back," Ed maintained confidently. "Drawn in by our manliness, eh?"

In this Ed was completely wrong. Hermione Granger had done her last lap of the tiny square, and didn't feel any better for it. Panting, she slowed to a walk and entered a café at random. Her mind was so _busy_, why wouldn't it shut up? She'd never felt so lost and she'd never had less reason to be sad then she did now. Hermione didn't even notice the handsome young man at the next table until he grabbed the seat next to her. "Granger, what's up? Did Weasel's house fall down again?"

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Hermione was completely unaware of her own attractiveness, in a way that made her more attractive, Draco mused. His own fiancée would rather die than wear those ugly old sweatpants, let alone that thin, stained white t-shirt – not that there weren't advantages to its' near-total transparency. He certainly wasn't the only man who'd had his eye caught by the slender, pale brunette.

Draco probably was, however, the only man to feel even more attracted to her when she bestowed her trademark glare upon him. He'd always liked a challenge. "We _are_ grown-ups now, Ferret. Don't you think it's time you _acted_ grown-up?"

Draco ignored her and lavishly tipped the waitress who brought Hermione's chips. "I am grown up, Granger, but that doesn't mean I have to lose the things that brought me happiness in childhood. Such as pissing off a member of Pothead's fan-group. Of course, right now Weaselette's got him, but there's always a chance -" he broke off, seeing Hermione's face had gone even more lost and lonely. "What's the matter?"

"Like you care. Shove off, Malfoy, I'm busy," Hermione snarled, yanking her plat of chips out of his hands. He'd already eaten half.

"You're right, Granger, I don't care," Malfoy said, his face going a little more serious. "You're a stuck-up little muggle-born and I'm a snobby pretentious pureblood. I know all that. But I could use someone to talk to, and clearly so could you."

"How do you know what I need?" Hermione said grumpily, and then relented. "What do you need to talk about? Wait, what am I talking about, this is insane."

"Tell you what, Granger," Draco replied. "For twenty minutes we pretend we're not mortal enemies. First ten minutes you be my threepist, for the second ten minutes I'll be yours. How about it?"

"Therapist," Hermione corrected automatically. She stared down at her chips. What did she have to lose? She needed to talk to _someone_, and all her usual people…well, Ron was the problem, as it were, Harry was his best friend, and Ginny was his sister. All her friends and family were tied up with the Weasleys. One big happy Weasley family. "All right, talk."

"I'm engaged," said Malfoy immediately. "Her name's Astoria. She's stylish, intelligent, pureblooded. Beautiful, too – not just T and A like you want when you're sixteen, but actual beauty. Incredible long black hair, dark eyes, when I look at her I'm amazed."

"And the problem here would be?" Hermione said crankily. Hearing about someone else's incredibly beauty was not making her feel any better.

"Patience, Granger. I asked her to marry me nearly six months ago," Malfoy continued his story, "and the wedding's two weeks away."

"Cold feet?"

"No, I was thrilled," Draco said gloomily, "Until yesterday, anyway. Yesterday I opened the wrong drawer up at the Manor when I was looking for my house-elf Harold's old glasses -"

"Your house-elf has glasses?" Hermione interposed, amazed.

Draco shot her a glare. "Yes, of course. I gave Harold the glasses when I was fifteen, for his birthday."

"_You_ gave a house-elf glasses?"

"I like house-elves," Draco snapped. "Until I was about ten, my father used to order them to keep me amused. I'm friends with all our house-elves, to a point."

"But Dobby -"

Draco snorted. "My father's personal house-elf. I had almost nothing to do with him, since the other house-elves wouldn't let him near me – they said he was insane, barely a house-elf at all."

"Wanting freedom does not mean Dobby was -" Hermione began to say angrily.

"This is all irrelevant," Draco interrupted her, annoyed. "Back to my problem. I opened the draw, and it was a pre-nup."

"The wizarding world has pre-nups?"

"You're studying magical law, Granger, according to _Witch Weekly_," snarled Draco. "Shouldn't you know there are pre-nups?" Insulted, Hermione shut up. "Okay. So I found out my parents made Astoria sign a pre-nup. I went to confront them about it, and it turned out _they_ were annoyed with _her_. She made them double the amount of money they wanted to put in it, and then when they made an extra clause – something about procreating until she produced a male child – she threw a tantrum. Eventually they agreed on triple the amount of money, with it steadily increasing the longer we stay married, and agreed that if we divorce I have full custody of all children. _She_ wanted that more than my parents did! Astoria's already made agreements with my parents for hiring a nanny as soon as we have children!"

"And…you're hurt by this?" Hermione said, feeling very confused.

"Merlin, of course I'm hurt!" Draco said bitterly. "I thought she was marrying me. It turns out, she's more interested in marrying a giant pile of Galleons and the title Lady Malfoy. When I talked to Astoria about it she said she thought it was understood that we were marrying to continue our bloodlines and support our good names. She's renting out her womb for a handful of coins and she's not even embarrassed by it!"

"Wow," Hermione said quietly, frantically searching for a way to respond.

Draco deflated a little bit, looking more at ease now he'd vented. "What about your problem, Granger? Sorry if I ran over my ten minutes."

"Uh," said Hermione, trying to act more normal after that shocking revelation. Malfoy was in love with someone far colder than he was? Weird. "Ginny and Harry are getting married."

"And you thought you'd be the one wedding the Pothole," Draco said, nodding wisely.

"What? No! Don't be stupid, we're like brother and sister. You idiot. But that's been making Ron think – and don't you dare say that's a miracle!"

"Wasn't going to," Draco observed. "But apparently, that's what you're thinking."

Hermione flushed. "Well, I guess I just think… Ron normally doesn't get stuff like this, emotional stuff, so why is he so fast to think about marriage?"

"You've been together since the war, haven't you?" Draco pointed out. At her surprised look, he added "I know, I read too much _Witch Weekly._ Astoria's a fan. But anyway, that means you've been together nearly six years. It's not like you're teens anymore."

"Twenty-three's still young to be settling down, even if we were – ick – _childhood sweethearts_. I hate that term. Anyway, he's been mentioning it, and I found a ring at the bottom of his sock drawer."

"You went through his sock drawer?" Draco said, mildly impressed. "How Slytherin of you."

"Shut up. Anyway, it was just sitting there, all emeralds and rubies and sapphires -"

"Wow," said Draco, raising an eyebrow. "No wonder you're horrified. Someone should tell him that tasteful jewellery only has _one_ major colour."

"Shut up," Hermione repeated, squashing the knowledge that she'd thought exactly the same thing upon first seeing the monstrosity. "Ron's going to ask me to marry him. What do I say?"

"Well," Draco screwed up his perfect face in concentration. "How about 'Hell, no'? Or maybe just fall onto the ground laughing."

Ignoring him, Hermione continued, "I mean, I love him. But it's too soon. But I _love him_!"

"So what's the problem?"

"I haven't even _started_ my career -" Hermione began, but was stopped by a loud snort.

"Please, I _told_ you I've kept up to date on you and your malodorous little friends since the end of the war," Draco looked at her with something approaching contempt. "I know the Ministry will give you a job in a second. After all, what Potty wants, Potty gets. Isn't that how your beloved became an auror?"

He smiled as Hermione went a very ugly shade of purple. "It is _not!_ He worked in George's joke shop for a while -"

"And then he got bored, and looky! Pothead can get him a job in seconds, no training needed!" Draco interrupted harshly. "People should work for what they get. _I_ work constantly keeping my father's company afloat, and I still had time to study long distance and become a Healer."

"Really?" Hermione said, too surprised by the last snippet of information to notice the huge irony of Draco Malfoy criticising her for freeloading. "But… wait, that's not the point! I don't want to get an Instant Job, Just Add Water. I want a _career_, something I love doing and I worked honestly to get! I don't cheat to get places."

"But lover-boy does?"

"_Shut up_, Malfoy! Ron risked his life – we all risked our lives – Harry and Ron _deserve_ to have some stress taken off them – they're great aurors!"

"Whatever," Malfoy said. "But back to this huge issue. You love the gingery idiot, he loves you, domestic happiness, blah blah blah. Go for it."

"What?" Hermione was hugely confused by now.

"_Go for it_," Malfoy hissed, standing up and grabbing a final hot chip from her plate. "He's a useless, tasteless, worthless, _broke_ idiot. But if you love him – and don't you _ever_ tell anyone I said this – if you love him, then you can't say no." He paused, and for a moment his eyes looked so bleak Hermione gasped. "If you love someone," he continued softly, "You can never say no. All you can do is agree and follow the path and love them and hope it will all work out. And that someday, we'll all be happy."

He turned and opened the door, but at the last second looked back. "What do you know, Granger?" he said, almost maliciously. "We _are _both grown-ups now."

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**Okay, I hope you like this. And I hope you'll review. First HP fic ever!**

**I can't promise I will definitely finish it, but if a lot of people like it, I'll definitely try.**


	2. We Meet Again

_**Present day**_

"_No_, Hugo," Hermione Weasley said, in a tone that her husband and two children had learned to be very wary of. "For the last time, you _can't_ follow Rose to Hogwarts! I'm sick of you asking! We're all going to miss her! Just deal with it, and wave her goodbye!"

Hugo glared at his mother, and silently appealed to his father for protection. Ron ignored him, however, still looking after the train. "You don't think she really meant what she said about making friends with Malfoy's kid? You shouldn't have encouraged her -"

"Stop it, Ron," Hermione said, fighting back tears as she watched her baby girl disappear into the distance. This was so _hard_ for her, why couldn't he and Hugo understand that? _Men. _But then, of course, Ron didn't know the reason why this was so much harder on her. "Oh, I'm going to miss her so _much_!"

"There, there," said Ron, patting her on the back awkwardly. "But do you _really _think she's going to talk to that… that _scorpion_?"

"I'm sure they'll invite you to the wedding," Hermione snapped.

Ron looked even more horrified, and glanced around looking for help. However, Harry and Ginny were too busy hugging each other to take much notice of their quarrelling friends. Hermione followed Ron's gaze to them and felt a little pinch inside, wishing Ron would comfort her like that. Wishing her and Ron were more like Harry and Ginny, so secure, and loving, and perfect for each other.

"Oh, and now look," Ron moaned. "The original Malfoy is coming over! Well, at least he's going bald, that makes me feel much better."

Hermione turned quickly. Malfoy was standing beside her. For a second she thought Ron was right, and he'd started balding, but then with a tut of frustration he pulled out the hair tie he'd been using to hold his white-blonde hair back. It was, Hermione thought, far too short to be held back with a tie really, which at least explained why it had pulled on the skin of his forehead enough to give him the appearance of baldness.

Personally, she thought he'd aged quite well. His pale skin seemed as untouched by time as it had thirteen years ago, and he certainly possessed none of the blotchy freckles her husband did.

"Hello, Weasley," Malfoy said quite mildly. "Good to see you again. How long's it been? Thirteen years?"

"Eighteen," said Ron tightly. "I haven't seen you for eighteen years." He stopped, clearly longing to add "you rat-faced bastard" but aware of the listening ears of Hugo and Lily.

"Actually," Draco said smoothly, "I was referring to the inestimable _Mrs_ Weasley." He smiled wickedly at Hermione. "Thirteen years, right?"

"Thirteen's an unlucky number," Hugo said unexpectedly..

Draco shrugged negligently. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. You must be Hermione's son."

"And mine too," Ron interjected.

Draco turned his cool gaze on Ron, reminding Hermione forcibly of his father. "Yes, I suppose. But her influence shows up the most – he seems an intelligent young man."

"Thanks," said Hugo, apparently deciding Draco was a safe person – a decision Hermione wasn't sure she agreed with.

Lily spoke up from beside Hugo – apparently she'd grown bored with her parents' public display of affection and had come over to find out what was going on. "Who are you?"

Draco bowed slightly. "Draco Malfoy."

"He bowed," Lily stage-whispered delightedly. "Didja see, Hugo? Just like a prince!"

Hermione sighed. She'd thought her friends' daughter was over her fascination with royalty. Apparently not.

"I'm afraid I'm not a prince. I'm just a lord," Malfoy said, sending Hermione another smile. "But I try harder." As Draco smiled Hermione wondered how she could have thought just seconds ago that he was anything like his father. The warmth in his eyes and his willingness to show respect to small children made his history as a Death Eater seem nearly ludicrous.

"How come you're a lord?" Hugo interjected.

Draco opened his mouth to respond but Ron beat him to it. Frankly, Hermione was surprised he'd been able to stay quiet so long. "Inherited, just like everything else Malfoy has ever achieved. Right, Malfoy?"

"Actually," Draco said, quite reasonably, "It _was_ a dormant title, but the Ministry voted to reactivate it after I earned an Order of Merlin for my work."

"Your work?" Harry said from behind Hermione. He and Ginny were still clinging to each other, and Ginny's face looked suspiciously wet, but they seemed okay now.

"Malfoy works as a Healer," Hermione said. As a worker in Magical Law she kept track of these things far more than Ron and Harry. "He created and mass-produced a potion that cures serious magical infections, the kind normally resistant to all fixing. It's estimated to have saved hundreds of wizarding lives already."

"Oh," Ron said lamely. "Right."

Hugo saved them from the awkward silence by saying, "I'm going to be a Healer someday."

"What?" Ron looked shocked. "No, you're not! You want to be a professional Quidditch player!"

"Not since he was four," Lily said helpfully. "He's wanted to be a Healer since then."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ron asked, looking confused.

Hugo shrugged. "You want me to be a Quidditch player or an auror. Plus, you said Healers are a bunch of namby-pamby suckers who -"

"Yes, never mind, I know what I said," Ron said hurriedly, sneaking a look at Malfoy, who seemed completely unbothered by all this. In comparison, Harry was snickering at his friend's discomfort.

"Darling?" A tall, dark-haired woman joined them. "Why are we still here? The boy has gone. We should go back to the Manor."

"Yes, in a minute, Astoria," Draco said irritably. "I'm talking to some old friends."

"Yes?" Astoria said, her disdainful gaze raking over Ginny and Hermione's outfits, as well as the children's. Hugo's smile faltered under her sharp perusal. "Your old friends are so much more… _colourful_ than mine."

"Wait somewhere else, then," Draco returned just as sharply. "Look, your sister's over there, go talk to her."

Astoria sniffed. "All she ever talks about is her children. Someone should tell her it's not healthy to get so overly attached."

Draco glared at her. "Your sister. Is over. _There_. Go talk to her." With another disdainful sniff and even more disdainful glance, Astoria disappeared.

"Wow," said Hermione faintly. Then she remembered her manners. "I mean, your wife seems…" she struggled for something both positive, and honest. "…well-dressed. She's very well-dressed. And such lovely jewellery." As if it was a magnet, both pairs of eyes swivelled to look at her ridiculously gaudy ring.

"Anyway," Hermione managed to recover her equilibrium. "It was nice to see you again, Mal- Draco."

"Yes," Draco replied. "Nice to see all of you too." He gave them another killer smile, and stalked off towards his wife.

"Wait," Hugo bellowed. "Can I spend Monday with you?"

"_What_?" everyone but Rose and Hugo said at once.

"It's career day at school," Hugo explained, blushing. "Rose is following Aunt Ginny to watch her Quidditch practice. I'd like to follow a real Healer around, if I could."

"Well, er," said Draco, looking completely wrong-footed. "Sure. If it's okay with your parents."

"It is," Hermione said. It wasn't, really, but what options did she have? After all, she was the one who was always telling Hugo to take Starter School seriously, even though the witches and wizards who worked there taught only Muggle activities like Maths and Science.

Ron spluttered. "But -"

"You can pick him up at eight-thirty, if that's okay," Hermione ignored her husband. She gave Malfoy their address. Draco smiled at her and Hugo, nodded brusquely to the still-spluttering Ron, acknowledged the Potters only with a slight wave, and disappeared to find Astoria.

Hermione looked at her husband and son. "Come on, let's all go home. Ginny, Harry, Lily, do you guys want to come have some tea at our place?"

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That night, when Ron had been called away for a minor problem and Hugo was fast asleep, Hermione sat in front of the living room fire alone. She was supposed to be editing the papers in front of her for work but she was having trouble paying attention. Suddenly, on a whim, she grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the flames. Thrusting her head in, she said clearly, "Malfoy Manor."

Looking around she saw a very fancy but completely empty dining room. "Malfoy?" she said hesitantly.

"Oh!" a squeaky voice yelped. "I is very sorry, Mistress, Clinky did not see you there. Who is you wishing to speak to?" A young house-elf stepped into the view of the fire, grinning at Hermione with a sort of desperate servility.

Hermione was yanked from her self-righteous anger at the poor slave before her when she notice that it wore a clean, patterned sheet, and was clearly in perfect health from its bright eyes and shining hair. "I'd like to speak to Draco Malfoy, please."

"Of course!" Clinky responded immediately. "I is getting young Master Draco for you at once, mistress."

Within a minute Draco was there. "Mrs Weasley? What's the matter?"

"Oh, stop calling me that," Hermione said irritably. "That's my mother in law. Either call me Hermione or Granger; I don't particularly care which."

"Fine," Draco replied, unfazed. "then you'd better call me Draco."

Hermione paused, puzzled. "Why are you so… cool about everything? When we were younger -"

Draco rolled his eyes. "When we were younger, a lot of things were different. I was jealous of everyone, and angry at everyone, and so arrogant I didn't even know what I was missing. But now… did you know I studied Muggle diseases too when I was coming up with the Hope Potion? I went to Africa… there were so many dead or dying… starvation, diseases… some were children. I look back on how I was then and sometimes I hate myself… so many of my beliefs have been changed, some days it feels like I've done a complete one-eighty. Oh, I'm still arrogant, and frequently still angry, but I hope I'm wise enough now to see that there are better things to be angry about."

"Like?" said Hermione, curious.

"Like how we treat people!" Draco almost seemed to be bursting with passion now. "We're wizards, we have magic, we can multiply food. Why are people still starving? Squibs are locked up in basements, muggle-borns and women are both discriminated against, children's education is optional which means we're breeding children who grow up only knowing as much as their parents! Medical care is still expensive, when it should be free! People fall off the grid every day – not even muggles, wizards and witches do too! – and we don't look for them. As a society, we only care about that which threatens _us_."

"At least we're trying to change things!" Hermione retorted. "Wizarding society can be better, it's getting better every day -"

And with that battle was joined. For the next hour they both expounded their views about the subject, both making excellent points but unable to sway the other. It was only when they started crossing over into a heated discussion about how taxation should be weighted and how avoidance should be punished that Hermione realised how far they had strayed from the original conversation.

"Right, sorry," Draco said, looking completely unrepentant. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Are you really okay taking Hugo around with you all day Monday?" Hermione said worriedly. "He can be a handful."

"Of course," said Draco firmly. "The world needs more Healers. I'll enjoy it."

"Thank you," Hermione said gratefully. "The original plan was for me to take him around my work, but I'm sure he'd have hated it. Merlin knows, sometimes I hate it."

"Why?" Draco said mischievously. "You're changing the wizarding world, and I for one love what you're doing to the place."

Hermione gaped at him. "But for the past hour you've been telling me -"

With a smile and a wink, Draco exited the room. Hermione pulled her head out of the fire, feeling oddly bereft. It had been a long time she'd felt so strongly about a conversation, and a long time since she'd had a conversation with someone who didn't just give in to her views. Even Ron just smiled and said "Sure" whenever she held intense opinions. Having fierce opinions about the rest of the world wasn't Ron's strong point at all.

When she fell asleep that night, with her husband's arms around her, she dreamed about wicked, laughing silver eyes. The next day when she woke she didn't know she had dreamt of him, and she certainly didn't know that Draco Malfoy had dreamt of a fiery, passionate, incredible goddess.

And what neither of them knew was that they'd started something that would be nearly impossible to stop.


	3. Mondays Can Really Suck

When Hermione woke up on Monday morning, she felt unaccountably nervous. She knew there was something she was supposed to be doing today but couldn't remember what it was. Did she have something due at work?

"Morning," Ron said sleepily. "You going to work already 'Mione?"

"It's eight o'clock," Hermione said, starting to panic. "Hugo's supposed to be at school at nine! I forgot to set the alarm clock!"

"Not… school," Ron yawned. "Ferret bastard day." He rolled over and started to snore again.

Hermione poked him. "Ron! _Ron!_ You have to get up anyway, you're due at work in fifteen minutes -"

He muttered "Won't fire me," and then returned to his snoring. Hermione knew he was right – the aurors fire War Hero Ron Weasley, the best friend of the celebrated Harry Potter? No, way too much bad press there. Some days it irritated her, though, how lightly he took his job. Even though Harry was by far the most famous of them, he still viewed his job as a serious thing. Ginny had confided that he'd even refused to stay home when he had a mild case of fairy fever and had ended up trying to fly out of a second story window, landing in a London witch's prize collection of cacti, still muttering "Why aren't my wings working? _Why_?". Though Hermione didn't ask for that level of dedication, turning up on time didn't seem that hard and she thought Ron could at least make an attempt.

Which reminded her. Draco was going to be here in half an hour, and neither she nor Hugo was ready. Hermione raced out in her pajamas, nearly running straight into a completely-ready Hugo. If Hermione had thought about it, she would have expected him to wear his ridiculous costume version of a Healer's outfit, but she was wrong – unlike his father, Hugo looked like he was taking work seriously. He was wearing a neat white shirt and black pants.

"Er," said Hermione, surprised. "You're ready. Have you had breakfast?"

"An hour ago," Hugo informed her loftily. Then, suddenly struck by nerves, he whispered, "What if I do something wrong?"

"It'll be fine," Hermione reassured him, now starting the race to get herself ready – work was soon, and besides that, she didn't want Draco to see her in pajamas! For a second she nearly headed for Rose's room to wake her up, before remembering with a pang that her little daughter was probably at this very moment getting up for her first day of classes at Hogwarts.

"What do I call him? Mr Malfoy?"

"Actually, Draco is fine," the man in question said, casually brushing dust off himself as he stepped out of their fire. "Unless you expect me to call your Mr Weasley in return?"

Hugo laughed. "Don't be silly, that's my father."

"Exactly," said Draco pleasantly.

"You're early," Hermione said foolishly, very aware that she had messy hair and was wearing the snitch-patterned pajamas Hugo and Ron had given her for her birthday three years ago.

"Sorry," Draco apologised, with his trademark not-sorry-at-all grin. "I thought I could take Hugo there a bit early, if he wanted, and he could meet some of the other Healers before our shift starts."

"_Our_ shift?" said Hugo breathlessly.

Draco looked surprised. "Of course! You're working with me, aren't you? I expect you to carry your weight. I know you'll be a wonderful trainee Healer."

Hugo looked overawed, nearly bursting with pride.

"Oh!" Draco remembered. "I also brought you a uniform so that people know you aren't a patient." He passed Hugo a smaller copy of the lime-green uniform he was wearing. "Go get changed, we need to leave soon."

Hugo paused on the way to his bedroom. "Lily's gonna be _so_ jealous!"

Draco smirked at Hermione. "Did I mention Potter's incredible imaginative talents?"

"Pardon?" said Hermione, crossing her arms.

"He named his kids Albus, James and Lily. Seriously, 'James and Lily'? He might as well have bought a neon sign saying 'Living in the past'."

"You named your child Scorpius," Hermione said crankily. "You have no right to criticise _anyone_."

"Actually, that was Astoria's idea," Draco smoothed his lime-green uniform out. "Name of my great-great-something grandfather. Total idiot, apparently, accidentally chopped his own head off."

"Genetics are amazing, aren't they?" Hermione said acidly, still humiliated by her state of just-got-up. "You start out with a genius like that, and end up with a genius like you. Did you inherit the axe too?"

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Hugo barrelled into the room before he could utter what was no doubt a very self-satisfied riposte. With a final smirk at Hermione, Draco ushered her son into the fire.

"St. Mungos!" he said clearly, and then they were gone.

"Arghhh!" Hermione yelled, strongly tempted to cast a banishing charm on the sheet of paper she was reading. Another idiot had filed a petition for all squibs to be considered by magical law the same as muggles – unable to know anything about the wizarding world and it's inhabitants. This particular wizard was claiming they should all be Memory Charmed into forgetting their whole childhoods, and that it would be a kindness to them.

As much as Hermione wanted to just set it on fire and then find the offending wizard and repeat the process on him, the petition was signed by too many people. She had to at least put it up for the Ministry… and eventually, if people kept sending petitions like this, the Ministry would vote to create it as a law.

Sometimes Hermione thought Draco was right, and nothing was changing for the better.

Her secretary Hayley stuck her head in. "'Mione?"

"Yes, Hay?" Hermione responded, her voice muffled from having her head in her hands. Hermione didn't ask for too much from her secretary, which was one of the reasons they had become such good friends despite the large age-gap.

"Someone's here to see you," Hayley reported. "Posh bitch, didn't want to speak too much to a lowly secretary like me."

"You aren't lowly," said Hermione, raising her head.

Hayley snorted. "I know I'm not. Where would you be without me? What's getting you down, anyway? 'Nother idiot who wants to change the world with their petitions?"

"Yeah," said Hermione, getting gingerly to her feet. Her head ached. "I'll see the woman now, whoever she is, she can hardly depress me further."

"Don't count on it," Hayley advised, disappearing into the filing room.

As soon as she saw the woman, Hermione agreed with her. Astoria Malfoy sat delicately on one of the chairs, avoiding touching it as much as possible. As if it would contaminate her, thought Hermione crossly.

"Hello," Astoria said, looking down her nose at the shorter woman. "I'm here about a matter of great import."

"Yes?" Hermione said, trying hard not to be irked that the woman had skipped all greetings and introductions. It also annoyed her that Astoria didn't appear to recognise her at all from the other day, while Hermione could perfectly remember the younger woman.

"I wish you to be my divorce lawyer," Astoria continued. "I'm sure you know who I am. I am Astoria Malfoy, and I can afford to pay a great deal. I've heard you used to be the best in the field -"

"I only worked as a divorce attorney for a year," Hermione interjected quickly. "And I'm afraid I don't do that kind of work anymore." Astoria named a figure that made Hermione jump. "Well – I mean – er…"

Astoria narrowed her perfect almond-shaped eyes at her, making Hermione feel about as attractive as a cockroach. "I'm also a member of an extremely prominent family in my own right, as a Greengrass," Astoria said majestically. "You can expect the gratitude of my family, and perhaps even an invitation to some of our soirees, assuming your family is good."

Hermione narrowed her eyes too. "Well, that's very generous, but -"

"Are you related to Hector Dagworth-Granger? Because I'm related to him too on the matriarchal line," Astoria said sweetly.

Hermione closed her eyes. This has gone far enough! She thought. I don't want anything more to do with the blasted Malfoys! "No, I'm not related to him," she said shortly. "I'm a muggle-born. And I don't care how much you're paying, I'm not getting involved in this. Get out of my office and stop acting like a parody of an upper-class bitch."

Astoria's eyes widened, and for a second she looked at Hermione almost with respect. Then the moment passed. "No class awareness," she said, flipping her dark hair, "Just like a filthy little mudblood."

"Whew," said Hayley cheerfully, coming out of the filing room after Astoria had flounced out. "Man, she was _cold_. 'Class awareness', my ass. Do you want to go egg her house?"

"It's not her house for long, by the sound of it," said Hermione, with a faint smile. "Whose idea do you think the divorce is?"

"Her husband's," said Hayley promptly. "I actually heard about that from my mother, she's purebred and keeps up with the old groups. Apparently Mr Draco Malfoy told her to get the hell out of his house after she threw a shoe at their son and it drew blood." Hermione winced. "It's been a long time coming, though, from the sound of it. Apparently he's been keeping it going so his son knows his mother."

"And she's been keeping it going for the alimony and the title," mused Hermione. "Makes me feel sorry for Draco."

"I can't feel sorry for him," Hayley replied. "He's too smoking hot, I've seen him at parties before. Maybe I should ask him out."

"What?" Hermione said, half-laughing. "He's my age! More than a decade years older than you!"

"Thirty-seven isn't that much older than twenty-three," Hayley objected. "And I have no problem with being his brainless young sex-toy. I'd be an excellent brainless young sex-toy!"

"Whatever, Hay," said Hermione, still chuckling. "You have too much intelligence for that life. But if you really do want to meet him, have I got the surprise for you…"

"This is our last patient today, Ria Brand. Okay, now, Hugo, this bit we have to do by hand," Draco said. "People used to be allowed to remove bandages by magic, but that stopped in nineteen-eighty-four when a Healer accidentally removed a wizard's buttocks."

"His _butt_?" laughed Hugo, who felt he had learned more today then in all his schooling. "Awesome!"

"Be careful," quavered the frail young witch, as Draco lifted her bandaged arm.

"We will be," Draco promised. "Okay now, Hugo, gently lift the edges…"

Fifteen minutes later, after farewelling the other Healers, Draco and Hugo made it to the hospital's fireplace. "Damn it," Draco said, looking at the line. "Normally I just apparate home. Actually, do you mind if I use Side-Along Apparation on you?" Hugo, though barely able to speak at the thought of experiencing apparation before his smug older sister, managed to assure his new hero that he didn't object at all.

Therefore, they knocked on Hermione's front door instead of appearing out of the fireplace like the two women were expecting. "Hugo!" Hermione exclaimed, her face lighting up at the sight of her son. "How was your day?"

As soon as she said it she was carried away on the tide of words. In the midst she managed to catch phrases like "…and I got to hold the Excisors while Draco did the operation… Draco got absolutely _covered_ in blood… Draco can juggle with false eyeballs… got to bandage someone!… _I_ got to tick stuff off on Draco's clipboard… there was a man who couldn't stop singing!… Draco hated the song… Draco told me… and then Draco -"

Basically, Hermione thought, motioning for her son to come in, I'm destined to be bored with 'Draco said' for at least a year. "Would you like to come in, Mal – Mr – I mean, Draco?"

Draco hesitated for a second, and then smiled. "Sure, okay. Thanks - Hermione."

"Good," said Hermione, conscious her voice was beginning to sound like Mrs Weasley's, but unsure how to stop it. "I'll make you boys some cookies, you must be so hungry after your big day -"

"Don't be silly," Draco rebuked her. "You must be at least as tired as us, with the work you do. I bought a cake to have when I got home, but it's easily big enough for all of us. St Mungo's has an excellent cafeteria. What did you get up to today?"

"But _Draaaay-co_," whined Hugo, grabbing the cake off Draco and handing it to Hermione. "I want to tell Mum about our day! What she does is _boring_!"

"That's not very polite," Draco said, raising an eyebrow at Hugo. "If you're going to be a good Healer – in fact, if you're going to be a good person – you have to listen to other people."

Hermione was torn between wanting to tear strips of Draco for criticising Hugo, and astonishment at the expression of realisation on her son's face. "You're right, I'm sorry," Hugo said, flushing and sounding very mature for once. "How was your day, Mum?"

"Good," said Hermione, grateful that someone had asked. It had been – God, _years_ – since Ron had expressed an interest in her work. "How about I tell you over cake? By the way," she added belatedly, "Hayley's here to see you, Hugo."

"Cool!" said Hugo, ushering them all in and grabbing a plate for the cake in a very house-wifey manner. Hayley smiled at Hugo and gave him a hug, but then her eyes fixed on Draco and stopped there.

"Hello," Hayley smiled seductively, "I'm Hayley, I work as Hermione's secretary, have for years."

"I'm Draco," Draco returned gravely, bowing over her hand just like he had Lily's. Hermione got the impression that in a way, he saw her like he saw Lily – a child. "You must be very bright to have gotten the position as Hermione's secretary so young. Actually, Hermione was about to tell us about her day, which I suppose is your day as well."

Hermione started talking. To her surprise, having Draco there actually made her son more interested in her work. When she talked about complex things, Draco seemed to have the knack of simplifying them so that Hugo could understand them. She suspected this was a skill he'd learnt from his many years of friendship with Crabbe and Goyle, who could be confused by any long word. Following Draco's lead, Hugo acted impressed about the work Hermione was doing.

When they switched over to Hugo's day, Hermione noticed with some surprise that it was past five o'clock. "I better make dinner," she announced suddenly.

"Muuu-uum!" Hugo complained. "Just order take-out or something! I'm telling you about my day!"

"Your father likes home cooked meals," Hermione said severely. "Like your grandmother makes."

"I think that's our cue to leave," Draco smiled at Hayley. Hermione realised, with a slight sinking feeling, that they'd really hit it off. "Bye, Hermione. Hayley, I've got plans with some of the people from work, do you want to come along?"

As they left, Hayley threw a wink back at her older friend. Hermione slammed a saucepan onto the stove a bit too hard. She was a match-making freaking genius.


	4. Intimate Healing

"Oh come onnn, Hermione," begged Hayley. "Please! Please-please-please!"

"No," snapped Hermione. "No, no way, uh uh. I am not holding a huge fancy dinner party just so you can try and seduce one of my old school friends."

"But 'Mione! He thinks I'm a kid," moaned Hayley. "I need to flaunt it a bit. He told me to find someone my own age, not a middle-aged guy with a child whose divorce still hasn't come through."

"Maybe you should," Hermione suggested.

But Hayley was firm. "No. I don't even care about the whole damn forever-after thing, but I want sex from him at least once before it's over. Hold the damn adult dinner party. You and your husband, Ginny and hers, some of your other adult friends. I'll fit in and be adult! I'll look and act like an adult, and be the hottest adult! Then we'll have hot adult sex!"

"You're going insane," Hermione informed her.

"Of course I am!" shrieked Hayley. "The other night after we went out with his friends – the fifth time I've gone with him for drinks after work – and I found out he's trying to set me up with one of his younger friends. And then I throw myself at him and what does he do?" she paused, breathing hard. "_He kisses my nose! My goddamn nose!_ And tells me I'm a 'sweet kid', but that we're not right for each other and he's sorry if he led me on! And I can't even be mad because he _didn't_! Bastard!"

"Oh dear," Hermione said placidly. "Poor you. Still no, though."

"Hermione, you are denying me my chance. Every woman deserves a chance to experience the life of a hot guy's sex-toy. It's written in our constitution – every woman shalt sex it up with hot guys, regardless of age. Please, hold the damn dinner party!" Hayley begged.

But Hermione remained firm. "There is no way that I'm holding this dinner party."

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"Ron?" Hermione said to Ron that night after Hugo had gone to bed. "I'm holding a dinner party."

"Huh?" said Ron, not really paying attention. "When?"

"This Friday," Hermione replied. "You're free then, right? We're going to leave all the kids with Molly and Arthur – they insisted when I rang to invite them, said they'd rather spend time with the kids – and Harry and Ginny are going to come over. Kelly and Leonard aren't going to be back in time, unfortunately, but Neville's apparating over with Hannah – she's bringing some cheap alcohol from the Leaky Cauldron, she owns it, now – and Luna said that if they don't find the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks by then she and Rolf might as well come home from Antarctica anyway since Lorcan and Lysander are at school. Penny and Shelly are coming, from work, you know – by the way, did I tell you they're planning to adopt?"

"Adopt what?" Ron said.

Hermione tutted with frustration. "A homeless, orphaned boat, Ron, what do you think? A baby. It's harder for lesbian couples to adopt in the wizarding world though so they might adopt a muggle baby if they have to. Anyway, and then there's my secretary Hayley, you know her, Hugo loves her, and there's Draco, and of course -"

"_Draco?_" said Ron, accidentally spitting out his beer and turning his attention fully away from the Quidditch he was watching to stare at his wife. "Draco _Malfoy_?"

"No, one of the other Draco's we know," Hermione said crossly. "Honestly, Ron, the rest of us have gotten over this, why can't you? School was a long time ago. We're grown-ups now." She stopped – something in what she'd just said sending a bell of recognition pealing in her memory.

"Yeah," said Ron darkly. "School was a long time ago. But his day with Hugo wasn't a long time ago, it was barely a month ago. He was messing with my family a month ago!"

"Hardly 'messing'," Hermione argued. "Hugo loves him, he keeps begging me to organise for them to meet again."

"I know. He keeps talking about 'Draco this' and 'Draco that'," Ron mimicked his son's high-pitched voice cruelly. "The ferret is scheming to take my son. It's his ultimate revenge."

"Hugo loves you," Hermione said tiredly. "He just had a really good time that day."

"Yeah, but he should've forgotten it by now! It was ages ago!" Ron practically shouted.

"You were just telling me how a month is no time at all," Hermione said, her quiet voice a deliberate contrast to his yell. "No, you know what, Ron? Shut up. Draco's coming, that's that, deal with it. I'm sick and tired of your problems. You need to get over this jealousy thing… I thought you got over it a long time ago, but apparently not."

"'Jealousy thing'?" Ron said, his voice gone quiet too.

"Oh, you know what I mean, Ron," Hermione waved her hands about. "First year you hated me for being a better student. Then you hated Harry for being famous. You hated your brothers for being successful. You hated every guy who came near me for having the guts to do what you couldn't. You hated George's other assistant in the shop for being more capable than you are, it's why you quit. You hated some of the other aurors for being more skilled than you! No, let me finish," she pointed accusingly at Ron when he looked like he was about to interrupt. "You got what you wanted. You have friends, family, a good job. You have me and our kids. You're famous in your own right. You got what you wanted – but if you can't see how lucky you are, maybe you won't have it forever." She turned around to leave, but was stopped by Ron's voice.

"You're right," he said quietly. "You're right."

Stricken by how defeated he sounded, Hermione turned around and went to him. Swallowed up by the huge armchair, he seemed smaller, less capable and adult, more like Hugo.

"Oh, honey," she said, and hugged him. Tentatively, he kissed her, and she kissed him back, deepening it until he was gasping. Then he was pushing her towards the bedroom, his hands up her shirt, and she thought how long it had been since they had sex. Weeks, surely.

Ron, who'd never had much patience, was inside her soon, and he was moving against her, and she was gasping too and moving against him and then it was over. But instead of the usual contentment she felt after coming, there was a little niggling thought in the back of her head – _that's it? That? I could get that with a vibrator, or just my own fingers._ But then she realised, as his arms moved around her, pulling her in close, that _this_, this here, the warmth and comfort and love, was something she couldn't get from a vibrator.

It wasn't wild heat, wasn't what sixteen-year-old Hermione had pictured while in the shower. So she didn't have the marriage Ginny had – love and lust and friendship and conversations. She had love, and a kind of friendship, and that was enough.

But the thought rose in her mind unbidden, like a monster from the dark spaces in her head. _It's enough – for now._

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"Word around town is you're dating a twenty-something, darling," Astoria Greengrass said to her ex-husband cattily. "Isn't that sign of a midlife crises?"

"Probably," rejoined Draco. "But I'm pretty sure using an inch of make-up and wearing slut-stockings is a sign of one too."

It was late evening and Draco had just been sitting down for a late dinner when his ex-wife had rung the doorbell. The marriage had been officially over for eighteen hours, and she'd come to collect her stuff, she said. Instead, all she'd done was sit down at the table and snap at poor Harold to grab her some very expensive wine from the Malfoy cellars.

Draco had technically inherited the Manor ten years ago, when his father had died in Azkaban. He hadn't actually considered it his until his mother's death the previous year, however, meaning that Astoria had really only had a very short time to consider herself the Lady of the Manor.

Draco still mourned his mother. In a way, she'd been what – as a young boy – he thought a woman should be. Beautiful, reserved, a voice that could sting strangers into crying but also sing a child's lullaby. It was only when he'd gotten older that he grew to understand that complaisance wasn't a good thing in a woman. It was his mother's ability to give way that had stopped her from preventing her husband from joining the Death Eaters.

Draco wasn't so sure he mourned his father, really. When he was young his father had often been almost excessively harsh to him – nothing Draco ever did could please the man. Looking back as a man he saw that it was probably just Lucius' attempt to ready him for real life, but the child inside of him still hungered for that goddamn approval, at the same time as he detested what Lucius had been and done.

It was really no surprise, Draco mused, staring out the window rather than at his ex-wife's face, that Lucius had gotten some time in Azkaban after the downfall of the Dark Lord. He was considered the only one of the Malfoys to have entered Voldemort's circle of his own free will, both Draco and Narcissa were believed to have been victims of a different sort. Only Lucius spent time in jail. Of course, because of the Malfoy moneybags, it had been less than a year.

When Lucius got out, Draco had expected Azkaban to have knocked a little stuffing out of the old man. Instead, Lucius spent his time after his release building up more money, tormenting the house-elves, and setting up a honey-trap for his only son in order to continue the Malfoy lineage. And then, Draco thought with a sort of sick amusement, he'd Crucio-d an insulting reporter in a moment of rage and gone straight back to the slammer. Way to build up the family's reputation, father, Draco thought. Sometimes he felt sadness for his father's lonely death in Azkaban, but other times he imagined somebody treating Scorpius as his father had treated him and felt a wave of rage go through him.

"Draco? Are you listening to me?"

"No," Draco said, returning his attention to the harpy in front of him. "What did you say? Something insulting, no doubt."

"No," she said, pouting. "I just… did you ever love me, Draco?"

Draco refused to show that he was shocked at the question. "You know I did, Astoria," he said gently. "More than anything, once."

"Why?"

There was something so pathetic about her, all dressed up, making puppy-dog eyes at him in the apparent belief it would melt his heart. "You were beautiful and dignified," he said, remembering. "Sometimes you smiled at me like I was the world to you, but other times you frowned and… I liked the challenge. Trying to find something to make you smile. You didn't suck up to me like other girls did… they thought I was some kind of prize, but you never acted like that. You seemed like a goddess to me."

"Oh," she said so softly that for a second he wasn't sure if she'd spoken. "When did you stop seeing me that way? When did you stop loving me?"

Draco frowned, trying to think. "Different answers to each question. I stopped seeing you as a goddess the day I found out about the pre-nup. I was… shocked, and hurt, but I did still love you. I didn't think you were a goddess then, I think I saw you as… I don't know, a damsel in distress? I thought you were screwed up, not mercenary, and I could make it better." He felt unaccountably sad. "It was years before I stopped loving you. It was when I delivered Scorpius, myself, and you didn't want to see him. You just asked what gender the baby was and then said your job was over. You never fed him… you didn't care."

"So you stopped loving me because you started loving him?"

Draco wriggled uncomfortably. "I guess you could say that. But it's more like… he showed me what you are."

"And what am I?" she breathed, her face an inch away from his, the top of her breasts visible. She smiled at him.

Draco couldn't help breathing a little faster. He was a red-blooded male, after all, and he knew Astoria well enough to know what she was suggesting. Just one last time… "A beautiful," he murmured, and kissed the side of her neck, "bitchy," he kissed the other side, "conniving," he kissed her neck again. "Charming – individual – stuck-up – relentless – brilliant – upper-class – whore." On the last word he captured her mouth with his and, as she moaned, felt all his inhibitions disappear.

For an hour, Draco pretended he was young again. He licked and touched every part of his beautiful young wife's body, marvelling at her perfection, making her moan and writhe and eventually scream, remembering what it had been like to love someone so much you didn't care that they would only hurt you.

And despite everything, he longed to feel that way about someone again.


	5. What's For Dinner

"Hey, cute thing," one of the other Healers, a very camp wizard called Connor, called out to Draco as he left the hospital. "Aren't you coming out for drinks tonight?"

"Yeah," said Jacob, who was the youngest of the senior Healers. "You should bring that girl again. Hayley. I liked her. I mean, she drank the rest of us under the table last time, and then magicked herself so she could do the Macarena on the ceiling! She's great."

"Sorry," said Draco with an apologetic shrug. "I've got a dinner party tonight. Oh! Could one of you tell a night Healer to watch out for Denny Federer? We don't want him bursting again."

"True," said Connor with a shudder. "It's going to take at least three washes to get that out of my hair."

"More like ten," deadpanned Mort, the most senior of them. "But the other seven's just for your own smell."

Roughhousing and generally letting off steam, the other three senior Healers took off for the nearest pub. Draco watched them go with a small amount of regret – all of St Mungo's day staff normally went there, and together they made up the vast majority of his friends. The punishing hours he often worked meant that his social life often felt restricted to collapsing once he got home. After his father's death, he'd worried that he would have to give up Healing and take over the company, but Narcissa had unexpectedly decided to become the manager. Crossing his fingers and praying there'd be something to leave to Scorpius, he left her to it – only to discover that her business acumen easily dwarfed Lucius' and Draco's put together. The various eminently trustworthy executives she'd set up continued to run the company, which had tripled in value over the last decade. Draco, when contacted by them, normally said to do whatever his mother would have told them to, often adding (only slightly untruthfully) that he trusted them implicitly. The only thing he made completely sure of was that nothing illegal or inhumane was involved – the Malfoys were legit now, after all.

Just the day before he'd written to Scorpius, telling him congratulations for getting into Slytherin, to watch out for intelligent-looking cats because they were probably the Headmistress, to follow as many rules as possible, and "oh by the way I'm divorcing your mother." An answer had yet to arrive, but Draco was praying it wouldn't come as too much of a shock to his clever son.

Draco examined himself in the mirror one last time before heading off the Weasleys. He couldn't help thinking of it as Hermione and Hugo's house. Somehow he just couldn't fit the Weasel into his mental picture – it was like imagining a hippogriff living in the Manor.

"Master looks very handsome," Harold said supportively.

"Not coming on to me, are you, Harold?" Draco smiled at the small creature, which glared at him myopically.

"Master Draco is a big boy now, he mustn't tease Harold anymore. No more of your teasing, you is leaving now." Draco touched Harold's head in a fond gesture that most people would consider quite outside his character. To his patients, he was firm and kind; to his friends, he was sarcastic and dry; to strangers he was often acerbic, arrogant and generally offensive; to his son his was warm but strict; but to Harold he would forever be the little boy who had insisted on wearing his father's old robes for a week at a time. In truth, Harold would have been furiously hurt if Draco had stopped teasing him, because in Draco's teasing he saw the affirmation of a thirty-five-year-old bond.

"Goodbye, Harold," Draco said. "Don't you dare do any work while I'm gone – you're head house-elf for a reason, you know, so don't wear yourself out." And with that Draco took a deep breath, and stepped into the fireplace.

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"It feels like ages since we've seen these people," Hermione said wonderingly. "Actually, Ron, it's been ages since you were home in time for dinner, too."

Ron flushed. "I've been busy, you know," he said, ostentatiously straightening his Muggle-style tie. "You could be a little more understanding of that, you know. I just don't have _time_ to play with Hugo every day, and do housework, and spend time with you."

Hermione flushed too. They were waiting by the fireplace for people to arrive. "Yes, I know it's busy at work, Ron, but lately you don't seem to have time to do _any _of those things. Hugo misses you – and so do I – and _I_ can't manage all of the housework by myself, either, I have a job too."

"Oh, look, someone's coming," Ron pointed at the flames in an obvious attempt to change the subject. Hermione sighed. Just recently it seemed like every conversation they had ended in this argument – when she'd thought he could be a bit more dedicated to his job, she hadn't meant 24/7, to the exclusion of everything else.

"Luna!" Hermione embraced her friend enthusiastically. "Did you find the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?"

"Yes, actually," said Luna proudly. "We're unveiling them next week at the Ministry. Rolf found out that they eat toothpaste, but only blueberry flavoured, because anything else causes them to belch bad ideas."

Hermione just nodded and smiled, shaking Rolf's hand. Years had inured her to Luna's strange ideas – though she was reasonably sure that this 'Unveiling of the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks' would torpedo as completely as the last one, when it was revealed the Snorkack was simply a Diricawl that had somehow splinched itself into a young moose, creating one of the most bizarre animals Hermione had ever seen.

"Oh!" Hermione gushed as the next couple stepped gracefully out of the fireplace. "Penny, Shelly, I'm so glad you came…"

Ron wandered over and gave both women a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, and then watched them take their seats. "I wonder what they actually _do_ in bed?" he mused, causing Hermione to give him a death glare.

The next person to step out was Hayley, attired in a way that made Ron's jaw drop. Taking in her friend's ridiculously short and low-cut black dress, and trying hard to ignore the little "gnsh, gnsh" sounds Ron was making behind her, Hermione embraced her friend. "Hey, good to see you, he's not here yet," she said, muttering the last under her breath so Ron couldn't hear.

"_Delighted_ you're here, Kaylee," Ron said, still staring at her. "Let me show you the way to the … to the room. Where we're sitting. All of us."

Hermione glared at her husband in a way that boded ill for him. "Really, Ronald," she muttered. "And by the way, her name's _Hayley_. She's been my best friend for five years!"

This caught Ron's attention. "I thought Ginny was your best friend!" he objected. Hayley sensibly left them to it.

"Ginny's Harry's wife and your sister, and we've always been reasonably good friends, but that doesn't make us _best_ friends," Hermione said sensibly. "And look here they are! Ginny! Harry! Have you heard from Albus? Rose told us he got Griffindor too."

Ron followed them to the table, talking animatedly about a Quidditch game the week before. Hermione, without thinking, drew a hand across her mouth, smearing her lipstick. "Oh, damn," she said, staring at the pink stripe on her hand. She could hardly go and fix it, there was still one guest who hadn't arrived yet. The one who the party was for in the first place.

Just as she thought of him, he stepped through the fire. Looking at him, Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. Outlined against the fire, he was a sight to make any woman pause – well, except Shelly and Penny. Probably.

"Hey," he said his voice low and quiet. "Hermione… your lipstick's smeared."

Hermione flushed, embarrassed. "I'll just go…" she began, but he stopped her.

"Here," he said softly. Draco raised his index finger to his mouth and licked it, and then rubbed it against the lipstick smear. Hermione gasped, her pulse racing. Heat moved from her stomach, going both upwards and downwards. She felt like the only real thing about her was where he touched her, the rest of her was nonexistent compared to that spot of incredible sensation. Hermione didn't know how long they stood there, trapped by the moment, caught by something stronger then them. His hand was on her face, right next to her lips, his stormy eyes were staring at her lips, and she thought that she'd never wanted to kiss someone as much as she did now.

He raised his eyes to meet hers, and she saw her thoughts reflected in his, and then he said "Hermione," in a voice that seemed almost too awed. She flushed more, staring at him like a deer in the headlights, leaning towards him a little – but then someone in the next room laughed loudly and she jerked away from him. The spell was broken and they were just old friends – well, not even old friends, old enemies.

Draco extended his arm, like they were at a fancy ball, and said jokingly, "So, Mrs Weasley, shall we go in?" Trying to meet his nonchalance, trying to pretend that there had been no moment, she nodded and they joined the table.


	6. Pain

"You ignored me," Hayley said, practically bristling with anger. "You just… _ignored_ me!"

"Hayley," said Draco blearily, staring at the girl on his doorstep. "It's _five_. In the _morning_. I was up all last night keeping a man alive with magic, and I'm meeting Hugo in five hours. I really need sleep."

Hayley ignored him, pushing past him to get into the house. "The whole dinner party, it was like you didn't see me. Like you don't see me. Like I'm just a kid to you."

"Okay," Draco said, beginning to get annoyed. "Hayley, sit down and listen. You're a good person. You're funny, and interesting, and stubborn, and caring. And beautiful. And if I was in my twenties, I'm sure I'd be all over you like a rash."

"That's age-ist!" objected Hayley. "I object to your attitude of casual discrimination against me because of my age. My age does not define me. Just because I'm younger than you -"

"Hayley," Draco interrupted. "Really _listen_. My son was born when you were entering Hogwarts yourself." He looked at her – her fresh face, the strength in her, so passionate she was almost on fire – and felt a pang. She reminded him of him, a long time ago, but more than that, she reminded him of Hermione. Hermione who had entered a posh magical café covered in sweat and then ordered a plate of chips. So young, he thought, she's so young. We were both so young back then to be choosing soulmates and lives. "When you were born – god, I was probably already a Death Eater when you were born, or close to becoming one. I look at you and I see a child."

Hayley flinched. "Ouch," she muttered.

"I'm not interested in casual relationships," Draco continued ruthlessly. "I sowed my wild oats back when I was your age – like you're doing now, presumably. Or are you interested in a serious relationship with me? Because that's even more dangerous. I have a son, and if I have a serious relationship with anyone, they would eventually be his stepmother. You think you're old enough to raise a preteen boy? Or are you just old enough to screw his father, but nothing else? I'm sorry, but if I wanted to fuck somebody young enough to be my niece I'd be hiring prostitutes."

Hayley looked up at him. She was crying silently, but Draco didn't know how to reassure her right now – it was five in the morning, he was hardly at his best. "Merlin," he muttered. "Stop it with the _crying_!"

Shooting him an angry and heartbroken glare, Hayley slammed out of the house. Draco collapsed into the nearest chair. "God," he said out aloud. "Granger's going to be _pissed_."

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Five hours later, Draco was honestly lost. "I don't understand, Hugo," he complained. "How am I of any use here at all?" They were out in a huge field near Hermione's house with their brooms.

Hugo sighed and launched into an explanation. "Daddy hasn't played Quidditch for _years_, he just watches it now, and I don't want to be a Keeper anyway. Mummy's never played Quidditch."

"Couldn't your aunt teach you, or one of your numerous uncles?" Draco said hopefully. "It's just I'm not sure I should be teaching you Quidditch, it seems kind of like a family bonding thing."

Hugo sighed again, even louder. "Aunt Ginny won't agree to teach me because she doesn't want to teach Lily yet and she'll have to if she agrees to teach me. She won't let Uncle Harry for the same reason. Uncle Charlie is really hard to talk to – he tames _dragons_ so he kinda scares me. Uncle Percy rides brooms upside down. Uncle George hasn't played Quidditch since Uncle Fred died ages ago, he says he doesn't feel right being a Beater without Uncle Fred there. Uncle Bill is in France this year."

"All right," Draco admitted defeat. "Okay, so first you have to call the broom to your hand." Hugo screwed up his face, staring at the broom on the ground. It didn't move at all.

"It won't come," Hugo said disappointedly. "I'm yelling for it but it won't come. This is where Daddy stopped teaching me because he said I couldn't learn until the broom wanted to come to me by itself."

Draco mentally called Ron Weasley seven kinds of the word idiot. "Well, the problem is you're yelling for it."

"I don't understand," Hugo said.

"Okay… if your father yelled for you, would you come?"

"Maybe," Hugo replied. "But I'd go slowly, because I _hate_ being yelled for."

"Exactly," Draco said. "But it's not just that. A broom, when you first get it, is a lot like a stray puppy. If you yell for a puppy, what does it do?"

"It runs, and pees, and gets scared," Hugo realised. "So you're saying I have to think like it's a puppy, and call for it really gently, so it isn't scared?" Draco nodded, pleased. Hugo stared down at the broom, a softer expression on his face now. Within a couple of seconds, the broom leapt into his hand.

He looked at it with equal parts ecstasy and terror. "What do I do now?" he whispered fearfully.

Draco smiled. "Now you get to learn how to ride it. Okay, you mount just like this -" he swung his own leg over his broom, and Hugo copied the action. "Okay, now you push off. It feels a little silly at first because you expect it to fall, but I promise you it won't."

"What if it does?" said Hugo, and Draco relented a little,

He dismounted and went and stood next to Hugo. "Okay, now if you fall, I'll catch you." Hugo smiled and pushed off a little, hovering about a meter off the ground. "Now don't move at all, I'll grab my broom and we can go a little higher, okay?"

Within minutes Draco had convinced Hugo to go ten metres higher. Hugo swooped and swerved for ages, enjoying the freedom of it. "I'll go get the ball so we can try some catching," Draco finally said. "I'll just be a minute, be careful."

Hugo smiled innocently. Looking back, Draco realised that after his experiences with Scorpius he should have been a lot more wary of that smile.

As soon as Draco reached the ball and turned around, he paled. The kid wasn't anywhere! "Hugo?" he called out, then "HUGO!" Suddenly Draco saw a dark dot high in the sky, nearly above the clouds, and just _knew_ it was Hugo. Swearing fluently in French, he kicked off the ground and leant forwards so far he was practically hugging the broom in order to go faster. "HUGO!"

When he was within ten meters of the boy, the broom suddenly rolled a little. "No! Hugo, hold on -" But it was too late. The boy's numb hands finally lost their grip, and with a little cry he fell. "HUGO! Wingardium Leviosa!" Draco bawled, pointing his wand and Hugo and yelling the first relevant spell that came to mind. Hugo shot up for a second but then fell again. Draco screamed "ACCIO HUGO!" into the freezing wind, but nothing happened, nothing happened and Hugo was falling –

Then the spell caught and pulled Hugo up a little. Draco grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him close, hugging him. "You little idiot," he croaked. "You nearly _died_."

Hugo was sobbing, deep, heartbreaking sobs. Draco thought he heard Hugo say "I knew you'd catch me," but he couldn't be sure over the wind. As soon as they landed Draco rolled off onto the grass, Hugo on top of him. "Merlin, you're freezing, Hugo," he exclaimed, wrapping the boy in his jacket. A couple of minutes later, after Hugo had stopped shaking so much and his sobs were much gentler, Draco released his grip on him enough to look at him. "Hugo, what were you thinking?"

Draco could barely hear the muttered "James", it was so quiet. "What about James?" he said with the patience that came from being a parent as much as it did from being a Healer.

Hugo finally looked up. "James flew up high, once. Really high. He was freezing when he came down. My… my Dad thought it was awesome, he hugged James, and patted him, and said how brave he was. I want Dad to say how brave _I_ am."

Draco hugged Hugo closer again, still feeling the gut-wrenching terror. I nearly lost this kid, he thought. He had always known he would die if anything happened to his son, but he'd never thought he would feel the same love for another boy. "You _are_ brave, Hugo, but this was your first lesson, and you're wearing summer clothes. It's amazing you made it as far as you did without falling."

"How do you know?" Hugo said, looking up at Draco again. "How do you know I'm brave?"

Draco wasn't sure how to reply for a second, and then he remembered. "At St Mungos, when you were helping me out, that wizard with the donkey ears threatened to curse you. But you just told him to stop it and let me treat him. That's bravery, Hugo, not flying with the aim of dying of pneumonia… Speaking of which, we should get you home. Some warmth and some chocolate will make you feel much better."

"Cool," said Hugo, sounding more like himself again. "I love chocolate."

"Okay," said Draco. "I'll come back later and find your broom, it shouldn't go far on its own. Do you want a piggy-back ride back to the house?"

"I'm not a baby," Hugo said, annoyed. Then he thought for a second. "But, if you really want me to, sure." Draco laughed and picked him up, feeling incredibly happy at all the great things life had given him. He decided then and there to spend more time with Hugo, and see him at least every weekend.

"Draco Malfoy -" Hermione began to say angrily as soon as he entered, but then she caught sight of Hugo's pale face and shut up. "What happened?"

"Just a little broom-related incident," Draco said smoothly. "He's fine, but a bit cold."

Hermione felt Hugo's hand. "A bit cold! Merlin, you're freezing! Get in bed this instant, I'll get you some chocolate. Draco, do a warming charm on the bed. Now!" she yelled when neither of them moved. Both started, and went quickly to Hugo's room.

Fifteen minutes later everything was sorted to Hermione's satisfaction, and she shut the door on her son's complaining face, ordering him to sleep and warm up. After a second's thought she cast a Silencing charm – no need for Hugo to hear this. "Draco Malfoy!" she said again, turning to him with a look of fury.

"Hermione, it's not my fault Hugo flew up a little too high," he countered irritably. "Teaching kids to fly is always going to be risky -"

"That's not what I'm mad about," Hermione cut him off. "I'm mad about what you did to Hayley! She was here earlier crying – you really hurt her! Do you have to be such a bastard, Malfoy?"

Contrarily, as soon as she told him off Draco felt far more certain he was in the right. "Oh, I'm the one in the wrong here, huh? What about you, throwing that poor girl at me in the world's most misguided attempt at matchmaking! I was still married when you introduced us, where's your morality?"

"My _morality_?" Hermione's voice was scarily low. "And the ex-Death Eater, murderer and torturer suddenly objects to adultery!"

"_Murderer?_" bellowed Draco. "I never killed anyone – I doubt you could say the same!"

"Hah! Like that's why you _think you're better than me!_" Hermione yelled. "It's all about blood with you, isn't it, Malfoy! 'Oh I'm a pureblood and everyone else is below me, especially mudbloods! Why don't I marry a pureblood _bitch_ and we can create identical _offspring_ in a pathetic attempt to justify our life choices!'"

"I don't think purebloods are better than muggle-borns anymore," Draco yelled, "But _I'm starting to reconsider_! After all, you're a mudblood, aren't you Granger, and clearly it's damaged your brain to the point of atrophy! Or did you get a voluntary lobotomy so you could have better conversations with your gingery idiot?"

"_Ron is not an idiot_! And you're a fine one to talk, does your stuck-up bitch of a wife make you talk about fashion for half an hour before you can remove her designer panties?" Hermione riposted. "Or do you just talk about the good old days when you _hunted_ mudbloods on horseback for the good of the clan?"

"As opposed to the _good old days_ where you sat alone in the library, while Pothead and Weasel were off making out and avoiding your bossy, know-it-all self! Where's the Weasel today, at Potty's again? Sure it's because they have a better television? Seems more likely he's getting it off with the big hero under your nose!"

"How _dare_ you! Ron's at work! And I _chose_ to sit in the library!"

" Yeah, you did. 'I'm Hermione Granger,'" he said, in a cruel high-pitched imitation of her voice, "'and I pretend to like books better than people, but that's just because I know nobody wants me around -'" Draco broke off. "Um, hello, Hugo."

Hermione turned around. Hugo was standing just outside his room, looking upset. He was holding an empty glass, which he held up accusingly. "I was coming to get a glass of water. Why are you guys fighting?"

"We're not fighting -" Hermione began, and then broke off. "Okay, we are fighting, honey, but it's just…" she searched around wildly for an idea. "Practice fighting! See, lawyers fight all the time, and I need the practice!" Inwardly Hermione cursed herself for lying to her son, but she knew he loved Draco and she didn't want to upset him.

"Really?"

"Yes," Draco replied gravely. "Your mother's a really good arguer, too, I would absolutely hire her to be my lawyer. Wouldn't you?" he turned to Hermione again. "I've got to go, Hermione, but thanks for the fight, it was fun. Is it okay if Hugo and I hang out again sometime?"

Bastard, thought Hermione furiously. By asking her in front of her son's hopeful eyes he was making it impossible to say no. "Sure," she bared gritted teeth in a rictus smile. "How about next Saturday?"

Hugo glowed with happiness. "Lily's coming over then too! We'll have so much fun together," he burbled. "You know, we should make Saturdays like, our day, Draco! Our day to have fun together!"

"Sure," Draco said. "See you then." He smiled at Hugo, and threw a smirk at Hermione that made her even angrier, before disappearing into the fire.

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	7. Love Letters

"It's not that I'm not over him," said Hayley. "I mean, it was nearly two weeks ago, and it's not like we were together that long…"

Hermione bit her lip to avoid reminding her friend that she and Draco had never, in any real sense, been together at all. As a beautiful, intelligent and strong woman, Hayley was taking rejection ridiculously badly – probably because, unlike Hermione, she had always been aware of her attractiveness. Hermione doubted that any straight male had ever rejected Hayley before, let alone so harshly.

But still, Hermione was going insane – her secretary had become a useless mess, who draped herself around the office wearing ugly clothes and no make-up, talking incessantly about a man Hermione personally wanted to shish-kebab every Saturday when he came to pick Hugo up. It didn't help that her home life was also dominated by Draco – Hugo's conversation revolved around him. The weekend before Lily had come over again and wanted to play a make-up game, which they'd never agreed to play with an adult before. Hermione greatly resented that the jerk was getting to see inside her child's head, and was even more annoyed that he had apparently made the game "the best game ever!" by enchanting the things they played with so they actually looked like dragons, crowns, armour, and even apparently using a temporary spell to turn the tree house into a castle. Hugo couldn't stop talking about it.

"But he was sooo mean," moaned Hayley, looking like she was about to cry. "I mean… maybe he's just scared. A relationship so soon after his divorce. Do you think I should owl him?" she looked up at Hermione hopefully.

"No," snarled Hermione, trying to do three jobs at once. "He was a bastard to you."

"Maybe he loves someone else," Hayley said mournfully. "Maybe he still loves his bitch-queen of an ex-wife."

"God forbid," said Hermione distractedly. "How could anyone love that woman?"

"Well," a cold and smooth voice floated through the open door. "He tells me it's because I seemed like a goddess to him."

Both Hermione and Hayley jerked their heads around so fast the nearly got whiplash. "Ah… Mrs Malfoy… I mean, Ms Greengrass," Hermione hastily corrected. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard my husband was screwing around with some little tart," Astoria looked down at Hayley's make-up-less face with disdain. "I was foolish enough to believe it, but now I see you I know I was wrong. Tarts are normally more attractive than you. Whatever else I might think of Draco, I know he has better taste than _this_."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Hayley said shakily. "After all, he married _you_, didn't he?"

Astoria examined her nails with every sign of indifference. "Yes, he did. Which is how I know his taste runs to women from his world, not trailer-park trash like you."

"From his world?" Hayley said slowly. Hermione opened her mouth but then closed it again, not entirely certain what to say.

"Yes," sighed Astoria. "He would never marry someone like you, you know. You should have known better than to try and get into our world. Little whores like you are always thinking that men like Draco will pay them with more than money – with marriage and respectability – and they're always wrong. You can't enter our world on your back, you know. All you can do is hover on the edges praying for recognition."

"Draco's not your husband anymore," Hayley said strongly. "I don't care what you think." Hermione felt ridiculously annoyed. For Heaven's sake! She thought, they're arguing over a man neither of them is even involved with! What happened to the sisterhood?

"Wow, snappy comeback," Astoria smirked. "You seem as talented at opening your mouth as you are at opening your legs. But Draco is mine, even if we're divorced – his child is my child, and we have spent fourteen years together. _Fourteen years_. He'll always come back to me eventually. We're already meeting several times a week to… enjoy each others' company, so to speak. You can't be very good, you're not satisfying him at all. I'm Lady Malfoy… I'll always be his Lady Malfoy… and you're just a slut. Stay away from him."

Hermione and Hayley both stood up at the exact same time, both unreasonably angry at the idea of Draco and this bitch still being involved. "Well, you can go mark your property, then," Hermione said, her voice shaking with rage. "But this is my property and I want you the hell of it, right now. You say don't come near Draco? Well, I say don't come near Hayley. _Ever_. Get the hell out of my office, bitch-whore, and don't come back."

Astoria smirked again, raising a delicate hand and making the fingers into a W shape. "Whatever," And then Astoria was gone, and Hermione slumped back in her chair.

"Okay," she said, "_Now_ I'm owling him. I'm going to tell him to keep her off my property." Hayley nodded silent assent.

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_Malfoy,  
Your wife came by our office yesterday, and said some very cruel things to Hayley – I'm assuming you didn't tell her to finish your excellent job of crushing a young woman's spirit? Of course, that may be assuming too much, considering how you treated Hayley. No really, good job, well done. Hayley likes you – loves you, even – is sweet to you, and you verbally beat the crap out of her. I still haven't hexed you for that._

_I'm writing to tell you that if your ex-wife comes near me again, she's going to resemble a slug by the time I've finished. Though from what she told us, I shouldn't be calling her an ex-wife, but a sex-wife. Well, I don't care if you're nailing the nastiest woman in England, but keep her the hell away from Hayley._

_Totally sincerely,_

_Hermione_

Draco groaned as he reached the end of the letter. He hadn't talked to Hermione without Hugo present since their huge argument, but he'd assumed she would cool down. Apparently not, he still seemed like public enemy number one to her. The smartest thing to do, he supposed, would be to go and see Hermione filled with abject apologies and let her yell at him until she calmed down. However, since when had Draco Malfoy done the sensible thing?

Lately he could feel himself getting more like he used to be. Oh, not as vicious as he had been in his childhood, but still something a far cry from the calm-and-sensible Malfoy he had been before Scorpius went off to school and the Weasleys re-entered his life. Hermione and Hugo both had the ability to bring out extreme emotion in him, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

He was sure he liked Hugo, though. The boy was smart – already cleverer then his father, which was another reason for the widening gap between him and Ron. Draco thought Hugo would make a good Slytherin, and also thought he and Scorpius would most likely hit it off in spite of the age gap.

He wondered what Rose was like. When Hugo mentioned her, she sounded a lot like Hermione, and he couldn't help smiling at the thought of two bossy know-it-alls running around messing his world up. That was another problem, right there – he found himself thinking of Hermione too much. Remembering too much, and at the oddest times. He would see a girl running and remember the conversation he'd had with her fourteen years ago; he would walk past a dress robes store and remember her in the stunning periwinkle blue dress at the Yule Ball; he would buy a copy of the paper and remember the last time she'd been on the cover for her work. It was like an illness.

Another illness it seemed he'd become affected by was the subject of the letter Hermione had written: Astoria. She came over to the Manor several times a week, and they'd reminisce about old times, and then more often than not end up in bed together. Whatever other problems had been in their marriage, the bedroom had been one place they'd never had a problem, and Draco supposed that was why he kept giving in. He needed to move on, and sleeping with his ex-wife wasn't helping. Maybe he should just have dated Hayley after all.

At that very moment Draco heard a knock at his study door, and Astoria swept in, resplendent in a blue dress. He turned and looked at her, automatically feeling the rush of emotions programmed by all their years together – dread, amusement, contempt, the memory of love, and more that he couldn't quite identify. "Astoria," Draco began. "It's good you're here -"

Astoria smiled, then frowned. "You're angry at me."

Astoria was self-absorbed, Draco thought, but she wasn't stupid and she knew him very well. "You attacked Hayley."

His ex-wife rolled her eyes. "Please, that little slut? That's what this is about? You can do better."

"Hayley's intelligent and beautiful," Draco said honestly, deciding not to tell Astoria that they weren't involved. "There is no one better. Besides which, when you say someone better you mean _you_ and we both know that isn't happening. We're over, Astoria. I can date whoever I want."

"You're not over me," Astoria said with total confidence. "You haven't moved on."

"Yes, I have," he lied, "I'm with Hayley now. I'm over you."

Astoria glared at him. "Prove it."

"What? How?" Draco said. "This is ridiculous."

Astoria's eyes turned slitted, as she thought. "Send an owl to her, right now, asking her out on a date." Draco paused, causing Astoria to crow, "I knew it! You're not over us, Draco, it's not over -"

"Fine," Draco said shortly, grabbing a piece of paper.

_Hayley,_

_I'm sorry for the other day. Do you want to go out tomorrow night? I'll pick you up at eight._

_Draco  
_

"Give that here," Astoria said, snatching it from his hands, as he'd known she would. She scanned it quickly. "Not very romantic, honey, you can do a better fake. What are you saying sorry for, that little conversation I had with her the other day?"

"It's not a fake," Draco argued. "Look, see here? I'll send it off. Clinky! Get an owl, now!" Clinky popped up from her hidden bed and nodded frantically, disappearing and reappearing with two loud pops. She handed him the small owl she'd grabbed. "See? I'm sending it off – right – _now_."

Astoria watched the owl fly away. "You're an idiot, Draco, and she's a slut. You'll contact her tomorrow and cancel the date, won't you?"

"No," Draco glared at his ex-wife. "I won't. Astoria, we're over. _Over_."

Astoria's face changed as she realised, perhaps for the first time, that Draco was serious, that their divorce wasn't temporary, that maybe she'd lost him forever. "No, it's _not over_. I won't _let it be over_, you're my _husband_, Draco, this is our _home_… what are you going to tell our son?"

"_My_ son," Draco said, furious at her attempt to emotionally blackmail him with Scorpius. "He's always been my son, and he owled me more than a week ago saying he was surprised we didn't divorce sooner. Scorpius is very sharp… he knew something was wrong. He doesn't care about you, not after everything."

"I'm a good mother," Astoria said weakly. "I helped him grow up independent. I gave _birth_ to him, for God's sake, you can't tell me he's not my son!"

Draco's face softened at her distress. "You're a lousy mother, Astoria, and we both know it. But it's not too late, Scorpius is still young, you could still fix things with him."

"I don't want to fix things with that boy," Astoria said rashly, causing Draco's face to harden again. "I want to fix things with you. All this time we've been spending together, it can't mean nothing -"

"It does mean something," Draco raised his hand as if to touch her face, but then let it drop. "It means _goodbye_."

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Hermione smiled indulgently as Hayley waltzed into the office, humming under her breath with happiness. "So you're over the bastard, then?"

"Oh, completely," Hayley said airily. "I'm never going to be interested in a man who doesn't care about me again… so it's a good thing he _does_ care!"

"What?" Now Hermione was alarmed. Hayley chucked her a note that she quickly perused. "But… the way he treated you…"

"He's sorry," said Hayley firmly. "He said he's sorry! I wonder where we're going out… oh he _likes_ me, he _likes _me, yesss!"

"Hay, this is a really bad idea -" Hermione managed to say before Hayley grabbed her arm and danced her around the office.

"No it's not," Hayley sung. "I promise I won't make you wear puce for the wedding! You can be my chief bridesmaid!" She twirled Hermione. "I'm thinking a pirate-themed wedding, I'd be an awesome pirate's wench! And Draco can be Bluebeard, we'll dye his hair!" she suddenly frowned. "No, wait I want a pirate-themed funeral, I can't have a wedding too. That would be just overdoing it. You'll have to help me come up with a new theme!"

Hermione realised with a sinking feeling that Hayley was already fully invested in this idea – nothing Hermione could say would sway her from this course. She was going to get hurt, and Hermione already knew who was to blame. What the hell was Draco thinking, asking her out again after letting her down so completely? Was he _enjoying_ hurting Hayley? Was he still as much a Death Eater as he'd been back then?

No, Hermione refused to believe that. People could change, and so far Draco had been showing plenty of signs of redemption. But whatever strange game he was playing now would hurt a lot of people, Hermione was sure. And she just hoped she wouldn't be among the walking wounded.

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**Okay, now I'll indulge in a little pathetic begging: please please please can some people review? Writing this takes time, effort, and occasionally even imagination, an I would really love it if some people would tell me what they like and what they don't.**

**A lot of people are Story Alert-ing this – couldn't some of you guys just take five seconds and give me a quick review? It would really make my day.**


	8. Sausage vs Sizzle

"Whoah," Hayley breathed as they entered the restaurant. Draco smiled. He'd been before hundreds of times, but it never failed to impress him – what with the magical ceiling and walls showing a blazing sunset over a tropical beach, the thousands of ever-burning candles lighting up the room beautifully, and the smell of Amortentia floating in the air, the Chateau De Perfectione seemed almost too amazing to be quite real.

Hayley sniffed the air blissfully. "Wow…" she said. "It smells like frangipanis, and warm apple pie, and newborn babies. How do they get it to smell of all those things?"

"It's Amortentia," Draco explained, as a perfectly silent waiter gestured them towards their table. "You smell all the smells you like the most. It's totally illegal to brew the potion, but they managed to petition to spray a bit in the air every few hours. Even if you breathed all of it in, all it would do is make you feel loving for a few moments – but it does make the place smell beautiful." He pulled out Hayley's chair for her.

He couldn't help wondering what the hell he thought he was doing. He liked Hayley, but he didn't like her in the same way she liked him. Her unrequited passion meant she was going to get very hurt, eventually, but Draco was no longer able to see how to prevent that. He'd decided to just go along with it, and hope something happened which made it all work out.

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"Hermione?" Ron Weasley said tentatively. "What's the matter?"

"I'm surprised you even noticed, you've been working so much lately," Hermione snapped, slamming a kitchen cupboard shut after putting away a bowl. "Well, I _say_ working, but Ginny was very confused when I mentioned to her how _busy_ you were, since you've been on _long service leave_ all month! Like to tell me where you've been?"

"Er…"

Hermione whirled to face her husband, her bushy hair practically crackling with her suppressed anger. "Hugo is having a sleepover tonight so we can _talk_ about this. So talk, now!"

"I'm not cheating on you, 'Mione," Ron said evenly, looking into her eyes. "I swear I'm not."

"Oh, _good_!" Hermione said loudly. "So what have you been doing for the past month – _more_ than a month – that's kept you so busy that Hugo and I never see you? And when you are here, you expect me to do all the housework, you're so _tired_ all the time from your job, and I'm so _unsympathetic_!"

"Hermione, I don't want you to get mad," said Ron.

"You may not have noticed, Ronald Weasley, but _I'm already mad!_" Hermione exclaimed. "Ginny says you've been spending the afternoons over there for weeks! What about Hugo, and me?"

"It's not that I don't care about you guys," began Ron, and then quailed at the look on his wife's face. "No, really, 'Mione! It's just, my days have been so full lately, and then when I come home you expect me to do all this stuff. Washing and wiping and cleaning and looking after Hugo. Mum never expected Dad to do those kind of things."

"If you're about to say that it's woman's work, I will hex you into oblivion," Hermione said threateningly. "And what in Merlin's name have you been so _busy_ with all these weeks?"

Ron coughed. "Well, the thing is, I've been thinking. Harry and Ginny have a bigger house than us."

"Well, yes," said Hermione, after staring at her husband for a little while. "I'm waiting for the point to what you just said. They have more kids than us, and Ginny frequently has her Quidditch team over. Of course they need a bigger house."

"Yeah," Ron continued. "But the thing is, I want _us _to have a bigger house too. And Quidditch tickets, and other stuff like that. But aurors don't earn much money, and you give a lot of yours to charity or put it away for the kids' colleges, and I spent all of the prize money after defeating You-Know-Who on my parents' new house…"

"And that ice-cream truck," Hermione remembered. "So that's all you've been doing? Working some extra hours as something else? Well, unless it's as a gigolo, I'm really not going to object to you doing some extra work."

Ron coughed again, clearly trying to put off saying what he knew he had to.

Hermione froze. "Oh my God. You are a gigolo." She got a horrible mental image of Ron wearing nothing but a fake moustache, a low-cut g-string unitard, and a smile.

"What?" Ron looked horrified. "No! Of course not! I told you I wasn't cheating on you. I just… I've just been playing some poker, for money. And slots. And some other stuff. A guy I knew won thousands of galleons at the casino I've been going to -"

Hermione frowned. "Where did you get the money to gamble with? Have you been saving up?" Ron mumbled something Hermione couldn't quite hear, and her voice got more dangerous. "Repeat that, Ron. Louder."

Ron looked up. "I got it from the kids' college funds," he admitted, red-faced.

"You did _what_?" Hermione screeched. "Ron, how could you have lost that money? I've been -"

"I didn't," Ron interrupted. He grinned at her, apparently thinking the worst was over. "I've nearly doubled it! Honestly, Hermione, I'm _brilliant_ at poker. I'm going back tomorrow to win some more. I'm great at betting."

Hermione counted to ten in her head in the hopes of feeling less angry. Then she counted to twenty. She got all the way up to fifty with Ron watching her nervously before she replied. "_No_, Ron. You aren't going back there, I don't care how lucky you are! You nearly lost our kids' _college funds_, you _gambled_, and you went behind my back and _lied_ to me about it!"

"Only because I knew you'd overreact," Ron argued. "If you were more _understanding_ and less _mercenary -_"

"_Mercenary_?" Hermione shrieked. "I'm looking out for Rose and Hugo – our _children_! You can't gamble their futures away!"

"Their _futures_? Hermione, don't be so melodramatic!" Ron glared at her, his face still flushed. "They can have any jobs they want. They're the children of two war heroes and Harry goddamn Potter is there uncle, they'll never have trouble finding jobs. You don't need to be so uptight, wanting them to study all the time -"

"You want them to _cheat_ their way into jobs? That's nepotism, Ron! Just because that's the way you got your job doesn't mean that's how I want our kids to view the world!" Hermione spat. It felt like she never had normal conversations with anyone anymore, everything was a fight. "You can be a mascot for the rest of your life, but Rose and Hugo are better than that!"

"Yeah?" said Ron furiously. "Better than me, huh? I guess that's because your _perfect_ genes are all dominant. They're little Hermione copies, both of them, aren't they? And I'm just a failure and a loser."

Hermione deflated. "Ron, you know that's not what I meant -"

"I don't care what you meant," Ron said, also deflating. "I'm going out."

"To the casino?" Hermione felt so tired. "Is that how little what I think means to you?"

Ron looked at her. "No. I'm going to Harry's, he understands me."

"I'm trying to understand you," Hermione whispered, touching his sleeve lightly. "Really, Ron, I am. I love you, you know that." It was the truth, she thought, but it felt like a lie. "Please, promise me you won't gamble again."

"Fine," Ron said, yanking his sleeve out of her grasp. "I promise I won't gamble! Happy now that you've wrecked something I love? Damn, you're selfish, 'Mione. I'm going out, I'll be back later." He slammed out of the house, leaving Hermione staring after him.

She felt so tired. Had Ron always been that selfish, offensive, childlike? She supposed he had. Hermione had always thought that his ability to see things like a child did was one of the most charming characteristics – so why did it suddenly bother her that he was less mature, less able to control himself, than his own son? When Hugo and Rose were younger she had sometimes envied the way they and Ron seemed to get along so well – Rose and Hugo had treated him like he another sibling, most of the time, an older sibling who could give treats and be played with. Hermione had been the boring old mother, setting rules and restrictions Ron casually encouraged them to break.

The kids were getting older, more mature, but Ron wasn't. He still couldn't avoid hurting people. She supposed he was still as kind and straightforward as a child, easy to forgive because of the innocence that shone in his freckled face like a beacon despite his frequent sarcasm, but she suddenly couldn't see the charm. Suddenly Hermione felt like she had three kids, and Ron was the worst of them.

Sinking to the ground, Hermione sobbed like her heart would break.

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At the same time as Hermione cried her heart out alone on the floor, Draco was getting kissed by Hayley. He'd walked her to her home and she dragged him inside, as straightforward as ever. Now she was snogging him and Draco had no idea what to do.

It was a bit of a bummer, Draco thought with a small amount of amusement, to be kissing a stunning woman in her early twenties, a young hottie by anyone's standards, and to feel absolutely nothing. He tried to kiss her with as much passion as he normally kissed, but he just couldn't _feel_ it. If he had a younger sister, he suspected kissing her would feel a little like this.

"Okay," said Hayley, breaking off the kiss.

"Okay, what?" Draco replied anxiously, hoping it wasn't 'Okay, let's all take our clothes off now' – which, with Hayley, it was quite likely to be.

Hayley looked him straight in the eyes. "Okay, I get it. I mean I really _get it_. It feels like waking up. I don't love you."

Draco fished for an appropriate response. "Damn?" he hazarded.

"I don't even _like_ you," marvelled Hayley.

At that one, Draco honestly winced. "Oh, okay, that hurt."

Hayley glanced at him. "Oh, sorry. I don't mean I don't like you, I just don't _like_ like you. You're nice, and charming, and I'm sure we'll be good friends, but I'm just not feeling anything when I kiss you." She glared at him. "Damn it. And you seemed so perfect!"

"Thanks?" Draco said, lost again.

"You're welcome," Hayley replied in a depressed tone. "I just thought, you know, that The Search was finally over. You know, that I'd found the perfect guy. Interesting, and funny, ridiculously rich, incredibly hot, and a good listener, but with something a little dangerous about him. A challenge, I thought, too."

"Sorry."

"No, don't be sorry! You are all those things," Hayley looked down. "But you're also… not right for me, I guess. When I kissed you, it was just like – huh, this is not Mr Perfect. I have not found Mr Perfect."

"Sorry," Draco said again.

Hayley smiled at him. "It's not your fault. Well, maybe a little. You know that saying? All sizzle and no sausage?"

"Yes," Draco replied automatically, and then caught on. "What? I have plenty of sausage! I have lots of sausages! Well, I mean, only the one, but… oh, okay, that came out wrong."

"I'm sure you use your sausage very well," Hayley's blue eyes gleamed with mischief. She continued gravely, "I'm sure your sausage is a very good sausage."

"Damn right! I have sausage!"

"But it's not my sausage," Hayley said, and then paused. "Oh, okay, we need to find a metaphor less loaded with phallic imagery. Could you stop talking about your sausage?" she looked thoughtful for a second. "Actually, is that your attempt to seduce me?"

Draco glared at her. "My seduction speeches never have sausages in them. Well, rarely. I'm not a fan of sausage."

"Are you sure?" Hayley teased. "Because I felt sure there was something between you and that guy at St Mungos – that guy Connor."

Draco decided to ignore this and move the conversation away from sausages. "I'm sorry I'm not your Mr Perfect, Hayley. But it would have been complicated anyway. You'll find someone better for you, I promise."

"You think?"

Draco gently pushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "I know."

Everything was quiet for a second, and then Hayley slammed her mouth onto his again. Shocked, Draco let her kiss him for several seconds before breaking it off. "Dammit!" said Hayley like a small child. "Still nothing. I'm, like, becoming a nun!"

Draco couldn't help laughing at her petulance. "That's okay, I'm sure you'll be a great abbess."

"I thought abbesses ran brothels," Hayley's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Trust you to know that use of the word," Draco said, not unkindly. "Abbesses also run nunneries, Squirt, and I have no doubt that you'd be running any nunnery within a year of entering it. You'd probably also start up Casual Tuesday, convert the whole of London, and hold parties in the bell-tower."

Later, while preparing for bed, Draco smiled. His life seemed to be going really well – Astoria had given up for a while and left, and while he missed the sex he thought that was probably healthier for both of them. The problem of Hayley had gone away, and he hadn't had to hurt her at all. And in barely two weeks, his son would be home, and his happiness would be complete.

Well. Nearly complete, anyway.

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**Thank you to everyone who reviewed - in the words of Abby Sciuto, 'I'm hugging you all in my mind right now.'**

**You guys really made my day. *hug***


	9. Animal Attraction

"Oh God, not you," said Hermione wearily the second after she'd opened the door. It was a sunny Saturday morning, and she'd assumed the knock on the door would be from Hayley – who wouldn't say anything about the 'Great Date' except that she and Draco were no longer true wuv – or Ginny, or someone else pleasant to see. Not Draco Malfoy.

"Nice to see you too, Hermione," Draco said in a disgustingly chipper way. "It's Saturday. I'm here to pick up Hugo."

Hermione winced at the sunlight. "For Merlin's sake, it's eight-thirty in the morning. Don't you usually come at ten? Or later?"

"I told Hugo to tell you I'd be early," Draco replied cheerily. "Oh, no I didn't, I guess I forgot. Love the pajamas."

"Oh, shut up. Why are you so early?" Hermione said grumpily.

Draco shrugged. "Why not enjoy a beautiful, sunny morning such as this – oh, all right, I'm kidding. An regular patient of mine is in town again -"

" – and you want Hugo to witness more quality Healing?" Hermione felt very cranky. She'd barely seen Hugo lately, her son was so busy, and her husband was avoiding her completely. Yesterday he'd thrown himself into the rose bushes when she walked towards him, under the apparent impression he was being sneaky. She also felt like she missed Rose more and more each week, when she should really be getting more used to the loss of her daughter. The letters helped, but only barely.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Actually, no. The reason she's a regular patient is that she owns a travelling zoo of magical creatures and is frequently bitten – I treat her then. She even has one of England's only fully trained dragons. She said if I could get Hugo there by nine we could have all the animals to ourselves for a couple of hours, and even feed them and everything." He caught Hermione's expression and added hastily, "Don't worry, we'll be careful."

Hermione nodded and even attempted a smile, but it was far too early for things like that. She motioned for Draco to come in and sit down and then stumbled off to go find Hugo, only to realise he was sitting at the table already, eating breakfast. "You're up early," she said accusingly.

"Uh-huh," Hugo said. "I'm going to the zoo."

Hermione frowned at him. "You should've asked Lily if she wanted to come too."

"She's busy," Hugo said. "Aunt Ginny is holding a team get-together and the whole family has to be there. Lily said Uncle Harry tried to get out of it, and Aunt Ginny attacked him with giant flying yellowy-green things."

Hermione let out a small laugh at that, remembering times long past. She looked up to find Draco staring at her with an odd expression on his face. "Do you want to come too?" he said abruptly. "Tegan won't mind, I'm sure."

"I have work," Hermione said automatically. "And there's things around the house to do -"

"Just take a couple of hours off," Draco coaxed. "Come on, it'll be fun. There are unicorns…" he added as extra incentive. Hermione felt herself crumbling, especially when Hugo added his entreaties to Draco's, staring up at her with huge hopeful eyes. She hadn't been spending enough time with him lately, as she'd been very busy at work and doing all the housework.

"Oh, all right," Hermione finally gave in. "But I really can't spend too much time there, I have to clean the house."

"I could owl Harold," suggested Draco. "No, hear me out, I know you object to slavery and all that, but I've asked and none of them want freedom, and frankly all they really do is occasionally dust the Manor. Now that Scorpius is at Hogwarts they're always complaining about how they feel useless and have nothing to do."

"That's immoral," Hermione said blearily. "I'm not sure how, but it is. I'll go get dressed, and wake up, and then I'll tell you why it's immoral." She stumbled into her room – well, it was Ron's too, but lately he'd been staying at the Potters' and at his parents' a lot more. This vaguely annoyed Hermione, who felt he should have stopped hiding behind his best friend and his mother years ago.

Draco watched po-faced as she left the room, then hissed to Hugo, "Quick, grab your family's owl, I'll write the letter." Giggling, Hugo nodded and raced to obey – he'd always felt that someone else should be cleaning his room, and recognised a good thing when he saw it.

"Right!" said Hermione, coming out of her room fully dressed, her hair pulled back into an approximation of neatness. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted the oh-so-innocent faces in front of her. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Draco said hastily. "It seems late to me. Does it seem late to you? We should get going. Come on."

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Rose was bored. She was sitting outside, despite the fact it was still quite cold, enjoying the beauty of the grounds. She'd done all of her work for class, and everyone was ignoring her. Sure, Albus smiled at her when he saw her, but when she'd tried to spend time with him he'd told her apologetically, "I can't hang around with a girl all the time, I'll never make friends that way."

So, feeling insulted by the rejection, Rose attempted to create a bond with her new roommates. Unfortunately, it seemed they'd already made a lifelong connection without her, one based around things she didn't understand at all. They didn't seem at all like her – Rose liked Quidditch, but they only liked Quidditch players; Rose loved books, but they loved magazines; Rose thought that the classes they went to were incredible learning experiences, they thought the classes cut into their free time. Rose was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with her.

The closest Rose had come to a social life so far was flinging insults at a pair of idiotic Hufflepuff boys named Parker and Zane. This she enjoyed immensely, especially the way it caused approving smiles from the surrounding people. Hufflepuff boys were idiots, and seemed to love trying to insult other houses in a very stupid manner. Slytherins were very different – when they insulted, they could cut people deeply, making them far more dangerous and less amusing.

Rose was beginning to wish she'd been sorted into Ravenclaw, because she had gotten quite fond of some of the Ravenclaw girls in her class. But that would have disappointed her father, which was why she'd thought _Griffindor-Griffindor-Griffindor_ when the hat was on her head, until it had shut up about how she was a perfect Ravenclaw with her love of learning and wisdom.

"Hey," a voice came from behind her.

Rose turned around slowly. It was a boy from her year, but it still took her a second to place him. The Malfoy boy, the one who her father had banned her from talking to. "Hello," she said uncertainly. Rose, who in many ways was far more rule-abiding then her mother, tried to figure out whether she should speak to him. Her mother had said yes, but her father had said no. Confusing – she hated it when adults were so unclear about things.

The Malfoy boy stuck his hand out awkwardly. "Um, I'm Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy."

"I'm Rose Weasley," she replied.

"I thought so," Scorpius gave her an even more awkward smile. He looked cold, but that was probably just from how pale he was, thought Rose. She'd never seen a boy quite so pale, from the tips of his white-blonde hair to his grey eyes. "Er…the hand…you're supposed to shake it." Rose shook. "I thought I'd say hi to you, because my father's always mentioning your little brother in his letters. He really likes him," Scorpius added, looking a little angry and resentful for a second.

"Hugo?" said Rose, surprised. "Oh, he's all right, as brothers go. A bit of a brat. He's still a little kid."

"Like you can talk," Scorpius said in a superior tone. "You seem very little too." He reached out and pulled one of her pigtails, not hard, but in a teasing manner. Just like James would, sometimes, Rose thought.

"Like you can talk either," Rose retorted. "You're the same age as me, aren't you, and you're in my year. You aren't any more than an inch taller than me, anyway. _You're _just a little kid too."

"Whatever," Scorpius didn't really care; he was just bored and had come over to meet one of the mysterious Weasleys his father was so interested in. "Do you want to… I don't know… do something?"

"Like what?" Rose wanted to know.

Scorpius shrugged. "Exploding Snap? Chess? Some other game? My friends are all still doing their homework."

"Why don't you go help them?"

Scorpius frowned. "But then they'd never learn how to do stuff for themselves. I mean, I'll check over it, if they want, and I've got notes they can read, but I'm not gonna do it for them. I'd go over the same class stuff a million times and they still wouldn't understand it… it would be like training my friends to be stupid." Rose stood for a second, lost in thought, remembering the stories her mother had told her about how she'd done everyone's homework at school. Even Rose's father's homework. Rose had thought of it as useful and nice, a good thing to do, and it felt strange to her to be considering it a disservice to help people. The silence stretched out until Scorpius felt uncomfortable. "Okay, if you don't want to do anything -" he mumbled.

"No," Rose interrupted, flashing him a huge grin. "No, I'd love to play something."

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"Oh," Hugo said, thrilled. "Look, a baby hippogriff. Can I pet it?"

"Sure," Tegan replied, completely unfazed. "However, you guys can't go in, Helga's threatened by people taller than her. She barely tolerates me, I'm sure she wouldn't feel safe with you in there." Tegan was a short, plump witch in her mid-fifties, with hair that had clearly been hacked off by shears and very battered protective clothing. Hermione was amused by her clear concern for the safety of the animals, but slightly worried about her unconcern for the safety of her guests.

"Well, that's okay," Draco said dryly, as Tegan and Hugo entered the enclosure. "I wouldn't feel particularly safe with an insecure hippogriff. Too many bad memories there."

Hermione laughed, remembering. "Oh, yeah. You were quite rude to that poor thing, no wonder it took a chunk out of you."

"I'm surprised you can laugh," Draco marvelled. "I mean, didn't that poor creature get killed because my father complained? God, don't tell Tegan that, she'd never speak to me again."

"Nah," Hermione smiled. "It escaped under mysterious circumstances."

"Mysterious circumstances?" Draco returned her smile. "Why do I get the feeling the circumstances weren't quite so mysterious to you?"

Hermione couldn't hide a low chuckle at that, and on some kind of autopilot they started walking along the row of cages. Hermione casually hooked her arm around Draco's. "It's funny to look back to then," she remarked. "Funny to think that now _we're_ the adults we thought were so useless. Do you think our kids think that way about us? That we're – aah!" Hermione tripped over a tree root that had started crawling out of a nearby cage. Her weight dragged Draco just one step forward, which unfortunately enabled the tree root to wrap around his ankle and neatly yank him down too.

As soon as they hit the ground, Draco on the bottom, Hermione on the top, Draco rolled them back into the middle of path, out of the range of the grasping root. "Th-th-thanks," gasped Hermione, completely winded. Suddenly she realised she was on top of him. The whole length of him was pressed against her, and her face was so close to his that they were breathing the same air. Embarrassed, she started to struggle to get up, only to tangle their legs and fall against him more heavily. Her lips were nearly on his.

Hermione was never sure if she moved or he did, but one of them must have, because suddenly his lips were on hers. She lost all her control instantly; she couldn't help it, couldn't help moving against him, saying his name in a shocked voice against his lips, and then continuing the kiss. One hand went to her hair, holding her motionless while he explored her mouth thoroughly; the other went to her back.

Then suddenly, the hand at her back became insistent, pulling her against him hard, soft breasts pressed to solid chest. The second they were that close the kiss turned wild, demanding. He was rough, kissing her with an uncontrolled passion, and she couldn't help returning it. It felt like they were fighting as much as kissing – but then, with Draco, Hermione had often felt like everything was a fight, so why should kissing be different? He was ferocious, and she was on fire, and nothing else existed.

The real life intruded very quickly, however. "Mum!" yelled Hugo excitedly, "Mum! Draco! Where are you? Come see this! Helga likes me!"

The pair separated, gasping for air. Hermione realised to her mortification that she was practically straddling him – she even had her hands up his shirt, for Merlin's sake! They were in the middle of a zoo, her son was within a hundred feet of them, and none of that had damn well stopped her from nearly cheating on her husband. What the hell was wrong with her? Shakily, Hermione managed to get up. "Coming, Hugo!" she yelled, amazed her voice sounded so normal. "Be there in a second!"

Draco got up too. "Hermione," he said in a low voice. "Hermione -"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione said coldly. "I'm happily married, I have a family, that was just an… aberration. I'm not going to let my life be screwed up because you're desperate for a shag." Hermione winced to hear herself talking like this – it was so unlike her! But then, so was adultery.

Malfoy bridled, angry. "_I'm_ desperate for a shag?" he said, his voice quiet but still cutting. "Another thirty seconds and you would have been riding me for all you were worth. Who's the desperate one here?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Hermione, very aware her voice was shaking with fear and anger and humiliation – and, yes, lust. "Just shut up. Don't speak to me again." And she turned and walked towards her son.

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Hugo thought the zoo trip had been the best day ever – he hadn't even noticed his two companions avoided talking to each other, and that when they were forced to converse they did so in a scrupulously correct and downright cold manner. Even Hugo couldn't fail to notice that his mother was stressed and angry when they got home, however.

The house was ridiculously clean. The counters were shining – everything was shining. The Weasleys found out later that the enthusiastic house-elves had repainted every room and even industriously scrubbed the inside of the chimney. Hermione noticed the unnatural cleanliness as soon as the three of them stepped through the fire. "Malfoy!" she couldn't stop herself from yelling. "How dare you -"

"I'm gonna go check my room," Hugo said hurriedly, certain that his mother was about to explode and not wanting to be caught in the blast. "See if it's clean too."

Hermione paused for a second to cast a Silencing Charm on Hugo's room to protect him from the yelling, and then opened her mouth to start screaming at the insufferable man before her. However, he quieted her by slanting his mouth over hers again, gripping her arms lightly. Hermione couldn't stop herself from sinking into the kiss for a second, but then she pulled away, furious.

Before she had recovered her speech, Malfoy ran a casual finger down her arm. They both watched her shiver helplessly, and the small hairs on her arm stand up.

"An aberration, huh, Weasley?" Draco said, his voice filled with triumph. "You just keep telling yourself that." And in one swift movement, he grabbed some floo powder, stepped into the fire and disappeared, leaving Hermione more confused and lost than ever.

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**So, I got a little bored with character development and went for drama. Sue me.**

**By the way - thank you so much, all you people who reviewed. Some of you, like the person who called this phenomenal and the person who said I deserved bucketloads of reviews, deserve triple thanks. You made me so happy. You know who you are.**


	10. What's Worth Keeping

Hermione's eyes were nearly blinded by tears as she waited on the platform. Her little girl was coming back… she'd missed Rose _so much_. It had felt much longer than a couple of months since she'd waved Rose off, and the past couple of weeks had seemed longer still.

It was like Hermione's life had become some sort of very strange game. Draco spent all his time avoiding Astoria – who'd decided she was in with a chance after the departure of Hayley from Draco's life – while trying to talk to Hermione. Hermione avoided him, spending all her time trying to track down Ron, who seemed determined to avoid her. She was reasonably sure he'd stopped gambling – the money had returned to the college funds – but before and after work he was always somewhere far away from Hermione. She wasn't quite sure why – perhaps he was still angry with her? Or was he finding comfort elsewhere? No, she wouldn't believe that of him. She couldn't believe that of him.

It all made for a very strained atmosphere, this bizarre game of hide-and-seek, and Hermione was very glad her daughter was coming home. Ron and Hugo were both here, too. It was the first time she'd seen Ron for ages, despite the fact that they ostensibly lived in the same house and slept in the same bed. Normally Hermione would challenge him about this, make him feel guilty, and sort it out, but she was very aware that she'd completely lost any kind of moral high ground by kissing Draco. Not that Ron knew about _that_, making her feel even guiltier.

"Rose!" Hugo bawled suddenly, jumping up and down. "Rosie! ROSIE! Over here!"

"You're embarrassing," said Rose loftily, giving Hugo a quick hug anyway.

Hermione waited until after her children had finished their quick embrace before sweeping Rose up into a huge hug. "I've missed you, Rosie," she said quietly. Just seeing her again, her baby girl, made her feel much better. Hermione hadn't realised until that moment how much it felt like she was losing Rose, too.

"Missed you too, Mum," whispered Rose. "I'm so glad to be home!" Rose hugged Ron as well, and then just stood there beaming until a trio of boys came up to them.

"Hullo, Mrs Weasley," the first one said, visibly nervous. "Um, we're Rose's friends."

"Hah!" Rose said in a very undignified way. "Ignore them, Mum, they just follow me around a lot."

"Do not," the second boy chimed. "More like _she_ follows _us _around, always coming into our common room… By the way, I'm Lincoln, Link for short. This is Rob and Scorpy."

"Hah!" Rose said again. Hermione gathered from the following insult match that Rose despised the three boys, and spent all her time with them to despise them up close. It wasn't the kind of friends Hermione would have chosen for her daughter, but Rose had always been an individual.

"Where's your common room?" Hermione asked politely.

"Under the lake," Rose answered immediately, telling Hermione exactly which house the boys were in. With that in mind, she suddenly remembered with a slight shock that one of the boys had been introduced as 'Scorpy'.

"Scorpius Malfoy?" Hermione stared at the young boy. He really was the spitting image of Draco at that age – she was amazed she hadn't noticed him immediately.

"Scorp!" Draco yelled, walking quickly towards his son. "There you are!" He came and stood next to his son, both of them beaming at each other and looking strikingly similar. Scorpius stuck out his hand and they shook hello formally before Draco hugged him warmly.

"Daaa-aaad!" Scorpius complained. "Not in front of my friends! Gerroff!"

"Fine," said Draco, stepping back with a smile. "Come on, we'd better get home, Harold ordered me to bring you to him as soon as possible. We all know who's the master of Malfoy Manor, don't we?" Scorpius laughed, punched Link and Rob on the shoulder, and gave Rose a little wave.

"Wait!" Rose remembered. "Could you guys come to this barbecue my parents are holding next Saturday? They're inviting, like, everybody we know. You can bring your families. It's going to be in this huge field near my house. You can come, right?" she said, looking anxious.

"Course," said Scorpius promptly. "so long as Dad's okay with it." Draco nodded assent and Hermione mentally cursed him to oblivion.

"Awww," Rob teased. "You want to see us again already? Sure, I'll come. But that's my mother over there so I'd better go now. She gets worried about stuff. See ya later, Rosie-posie."

Link shook his head. "I can't, we're going to visit relatives in Ireland. I know it's breaking your heart -"

"Hardly," Rose said nastily. "It may be turning my stomach though. Oh, go away, I'll see you when school starts again, okay?" Link grinned at her and scampered off the find his parents. Rose looked up at her mother. "Come on, let's go home. I miss our house."

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"Oh no, not you again," groaned Hermione, looking up. At her tone Hayley looked up from her filing as well.

Draco raised an eyebrow at them both, sitting on the floor up to their waists in paper. "Huh. Couldn't you at least pretend to be pleased to see me?"

"Sure we can," said Hayley cheerfully. "Well, sure I can, but then I like you and she doesn't. Which of us are you here to see?"

"The one who hates me, actually," Draco said mournfully. "It's depressing, but I have to talk to her about our kids. Can she take a break?" He looked at Hayley like she was the boss.

"Absolutely," Hayley said immediately, ignoring Hermione's frantic hand signals. "Stay away at least one hour, 'Mione, and I expect you to eat something and engage with the outside world." She caught Draco's quizzical look. "We've been here for _forever_," Hayley explained with a sigh. "Some idiot started a tornado in the floor above and it moved down here. We're redoing all the filing. Did I mention it's taking _forever_? I'm taking breaks but Wonder Witch here thinks they're unnecessary time-wasters. Take this woman and feed her."

Draco bowed slightly. "Certainly, milady. Come on, Hermione, let's go."

Hermione gave in with bad grace, standing up ungracefully and ignoring his helping hand. She stomped after him, shooting the clueless Hayley a dirty look.

For nearly ten minutes they walked in total silence. "Hermione… I wanted to apologise."

This was so far from what Hermione had expected him to say that she stood there in silence.

"I shouldn't have pushed you. I care about you, and Merlin knows I'm attracted to you, but I still shouldn't have pushed so hard," Draco snuck a glance at Hermione as they walked along. "You're married and I should have respected that. From now on, we'll just be friends, okay? Deal?"

But I _don't want us to be friends!_ Hermione felt like roaring. I want you to kiss me again! "Sure," she said colourlessly. "Friends. Just like our kids are. It would make things… so much simpler." And it would, Hermione admitted with a pang. She could feel a slight relief at things being simple again, but at the moment the dominant emotion was something akin to loss. Later, she was sure she'd be able to appreciate him stepping aside. Much later.

"Good," said Draco with obvious relief. "I like our discussions, when we have them. You're the only person in the world I can talk to like that."

That was true for her as well, Hermione knew. When she talked to Draco they would argue and debate, sometimes, but they could also randomly segue into nostalgia or a conversation about nothing at all. He always made her laugh and he always listened and laughed at what she said. Sure, he annoyed her, but lately it seemed she couldn't imagine her world without him there.

"Good," Hermione echoed, forcing a smile. "Yeah, this is good. We should go get something to eat."

"There's a really fancy café up here," Draco said casually. Hermione hadn't been paying attention to where they walked, just following Draco, but now it seemed that this area was vaguely familiar. Draco smirked at her. "People normally dress up to go in, and they never, _ever_ order hot chips."

Suddenly Hermione remembered and laughed. "Oh, shut up, I wasn't paying attention that day. I had a lot on my mind."

"Yeah," said Draco. "Whether to wed the Weasel. Ever regret that decision?"

"You told me to," Hermione reminded him softly.

"Right," Draco stared at her until she blushed. "I'll regret it for the both of us then. Sorry," he added quickly, seeing her expression. "That wasn't friend-like. Or friendly. I'll try and be better than this. My kid really likes your kid, by the way. He's full of stories about the Amazing Rose."

"She is pretty amazing," Hermione smiled. "And she's full of stories about the Pathetic Loser Scorpius. Well, she was, until Ron agreed with her. Then she attacked him for insulting one of her best friends." Ron had been home a lot more since Rose had arrived. He and Hermione didn't talk much – there was still a huge rift between them that she didn't quite understand – but she was trying to mend it.

"She's a strange kid," Draco said. "But she seems to be a good one. Just like Hugo. You've done a good job, you know."

"So have you," Hermione said softly, as they entered the café. Suddenly she changed the subject. "As one friend to another friend, have you read that biography on You-Know-Who that came out the other day?"

"Oh, yeah," Draco suddenly smiled. "I liked that theory that he was born without any kind of compassion. I've seen people like that at St Mungos – it's an actual condition. Frightening."

"I'm not sure I agree with it," said Hermione, signalling for a waitress. "I mean, he doesn't really fit the profile."

"How can you say that?" Draco started to argue his point, pausing only to order chips.

It was more than two hours later when Hermione realised she should really get back to the filing. Thanking him for the meal and the conversation, she began to trudge back to the office with only one thought on her mind.

_I wish things were different. I wish I could kiss him again._

DDDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDD

It was time to confront Ron. Hermione knew that. Her conversation with Draco had made it clear – her marriage was getting more and more screwed up, more silent and more awkward, and she needed to do something to stop it. Ron still tried to ignore her as much as possible, and it was clear he had something on his mind. She'd contacted Harry and apparently Ron was cranky towards him too – both of them worried about their friend.

"Ron," Hermione said. "Ron, we need to talk."

Ron looked around. "Where are the kids?" he said abruptly.

"Playing outside with Lily and Albus and James," Hermione said inexorably. "You aren't escaping this conversation by using them. You've been avoiding me for weeks. What's wrong?"

"It's just…" Ron hesitated. "The thing is, Hermione, I feel like we've been together forever. We never had the chance to meet other people. And it's not that I want anyone else," he added hurriedly, "Merlin knows, I'm lucky to have you. Sometimes you don't appreciate me, but I still love you. It's just that I wonder sometimes if…" he paused again. "If I would have gotten further in life if I hadn't married you."

Hermione felt cold. "You think I've been holding you back?" Wasn't this typical, absolutely typical of Ron.

"Well, I won a lot of money at the casino," Ron said mulishly. "And I didn't tell you about it – I didn't have your help or Harry's help, it's just something I'm naturally good at. I think maybe if you and Harry didn't have to tangle yourself in my life so completely, I could be good at other things too." He drew in a deep breath. "I think the reason I'm not good at some stuff is because other people always get involved. My family, my friends… you. And it's not your fault, Hermione -"

"Oh good," Hermione said furiously. "Only think how insulted I would feel if this were my _fault_."

Ron winced, but continued doggedly. "It's not your fault, but I think marrying you and settling down so young was a mistake. I think you shouldn't have pressed for marriage so early. And I know you were worried I would leave you -"

"_What_?" Hermione was barely able to suppress her shriek enough to stop it being heard by the children outside. "I never thought you would leave me! I never even pressed for marriage -"

"See? You don't appreciate me," Ron accused. "You don't _value_ me. You don't realise how many women would love to have a guy like me. You're lucky to have me."

"What? But you just said you were lucky to have me!"

"Well, yes," Ron admitted. "But you're not the most attractive woman who's ever been interested in me, you know. And you work too much and expect me to take care of the kids and do all the housework -"

"You don't do _any_ of the housework!" Hermione was furious. This was just like Ron. Instead of thinking he should try harder at his job, he thought it was everyone else's fault. And now he was saying he could do _better_ than her!

Ron glared at her. "Exactly! Because it's not my job to! I have a very important job, I'm an _auror -_"

"And I'm a lawyer, that's important too!" Hermione retorted.

"Not _as_ important," Ron said.

"Anything else about me you'd like to criticise about me?" Hermione felt like hexing her husband, but managed to contain herself. "Clearly you've been bottling all this up for years!" Years in which he'd done barely any housework, been incredibly immature, and stared at every attractive woman who walked by, she remembered. Jerk.

"Well, our sex life could use some work. You're letting yourself go a little," Ron crossed his arms. "You know, a bloke at work said his wife organised a threesome – you never do anything like that, you never even wear lingerry!"

"Lingerie," Hermione corrected with the right pronunciation. She didn't know how to reply to what he'd just said. Did he seriously expect her to say 'you're right, I'll owl Hayley to come over and tell her to bring condoms'? Sometimes she wondered if Ron thought at all.

"And I just think…Hermione, I just sometimes think I could have done better. I just wonder if you're enough for me… I'm a free spirit and I shouldn't be tied down like this…" he started talking about the casino, and Hermione stopped listening.

It was heartbreaking, to stare into Ron's familiar freckled face and hear him say all these things. Hear him say that she wasn't enough for him. He probably wants a veela, Hermione thought, just like when he was fifteen. Had Ron grown up at all since then? And that was the real heartbreak of it – when she looked at him, she saw a teenage Ron. Comforting her, insulting her, making her happy, making her sad. Betraying her and making excuses for it. Blaming her for everything he could. Unable to see clearly when it came to her, and even more unable to see clearly when it came to himself. She wanted to hug him and make it better at the same time as she wanted to slap him and scream at him.

She couldn't even blame Draco, Hermione realised, for coming into her life and confusing her about what she wanted. This problem had been building up for more than a year – probably more than five years. Looking back she could see it now, in the little criticisms of what she did, in the slight bitterness about his job and about her job. In the way he looked at every woman in a room, instead of just looking at her.

"I just feel that you're not trying as hard as you could be. My mother gives you all her recipes but you hardly ever make them…"

This was Ron – this was her Ron – but suddenly it was as if she saw him clearly for the first time. She had loved him since she was fifteen – for his endearing stubbornness, his faith in people, his inability to lie, and his enthusiasm about the world. But suddenly she realised what she hadn't realised before – Ron was selfish, he got jealous easily, he was attracted to a lot of women, he abandoned people when it suited him. He'd abandoned Harry during the Triwizard Tournament, he'd abandoned her for Lavender, and then he'd abandoned both of them on a suicide mission in a lonely forest. She remembered chasing after him, crying. It had hurt a lot, but this hurt more. She'd thought, after she and Ron married, that she'd never have to chase after him like that again. It wasn't even what he'd just said that hurt her so much – it was that she was finally seeing him as he really was, and realising he didn't match up to the Ron she had thought he was.

He couldn't love her, not really. But then Ron had always been very selfish in love and perhaps what he felt for her was no different. Or perhaps what he'd always wanted was just for her to love _him_ best, so he could beat Harry at something.

Hermione turned and walked, like a zombie, into their bedroom, and sat on their bed. She knew she must look completely emotionless to Ron, who waited outside with a look of worry on his face. "Hermione, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings -"

But of course he had, she knew that. It was part of Ron's MO – he hurt her to try and figure out how much she would take, how much she wanted him. He hurt her in revenge for imagined slights and jealousy. Hermione lifted her wand, staring at it. She wasn't thinking about any kind of spell, but her rioting emotions must have been confusing it anyway. Birds were pouring out of the tip, little purple ones, and suddenly Hermione remembered an empty classroom, and a spell – "_Oppugno!_" she shrieked. The birds attacked Ron, who tried to protect his face with his arms, yelling, before legging it outside, where she heard the sharp _Crack_ of him Disapparating.

Hermione lay down, turning her face into the pillow, unable to even cry.

DDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDD

**To some people, this probably greatly resembles Ron-bashing. But I couldn't help taking a look at Ron and Hermione in the books - Ron does all the horrible things I've mentioned, and is frequently quite mean to other nice characters, but Hermione always forgives him, often without so much as an apology. In my mind that would take an exceptionally thick pair of rose-tinted glasses, and I wanted something to break those.**

**So what I did was take every bad quality Ron shows in the books, and ramp it up to eleven. Since nobody ever really pulled him up for those things, it's entirely possible he would be worse as an adult, but I don't think so. Don't worry, this semi-Ron-bashing gets explained later.**

**I just wanted to give Hermione a reason - an in-character reason - for considering other people.**


	11. Sacrifice

Much later that night, Ron came back. His first words were "I'm so sorry, 'Mione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. It just… I just… I'm sorry." Hermione let him into their room and said nothing when he hugged her, nothing when he kissed her, and nothing when he made love to her. She felt like she was inside a refrigerator, and no warmth or happiness could reach her. She only knew that this was the father of her children, and she had to forgive him for them.

However, inside she wasn't sure she could ever forgive him. Not just for all the horrible things he'd said to make himself feel better about what he considered his sub-standard life, but because of what she now recognised as ten years of neglect. Ten years of her not being important to him. Only now, because of how she'd rejected him by attacking him with the magical birds, did Hermione notice a renewal of his devotion.

Hermione couldn't kid herself, though. It wasn't just for her children that she let Ron back into her life at the price of a few pathetic apologies. It was for her. Ron was her family, really: twenty-seven years worth of birthdays and Christmases and holidays. Nearly every memory she had involved Ron, every date she'd ever had had been either with him or to make him jealous, her whole world outside work had been built around one Ronald Bilius Weasley. Even though she'd fallen out of love with him so harshly she thought she'd never get the feeling back, she had to try.

So of course she took him back, and spent every night with his arms wrapped around her, staring at the ceiling and wondering if she was going insane.

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It was Saturday before Hermione knew it, and the Weasley house was alive with happiness.

"Barbecue today," Hugo said with immense satisfaction. "I love barbecues."

"Why did I invite Scorpy and Rob?" Rose bemoaned her foolishness. "They'll just wreck the whole thing, following me around like normal. Idiots."

"I can _so_ do it without magic," Ron said stubbornly, twiddling with the old barbecue they'd inherited from Hermione's father. "I don't need magic to do everything, you know!"

Hermione just smiled and nodded and ran around organising everything, her whole mind consumed with one thought: he would be here. Her _friend_ Draco would be here. She couldn't help wondering vaguely if talking to him would make her feel less frozen and empty inside. Since Hermione's massive fight with Ron and their uneasy pretence that everything was okay, she'd found herself thinking about Draco even more. He would creep into her head at night, and distract her from work during the day, and whenever Ron touched her she couldn't help remembering Draco's touch.

As it happened, when Draco arrived towing Scorpius he was immediately drawn into conversation with Rob's eager parents. Hermione couldn't see how she could go and talk to him subtly, so instead she went and sat by Ron, who was talking to Harry.

"Hey, Hermione!" Harry's face lit up at the sight of her. "I haven't seen you for ages. Not since that dinner party. How have you been?" He hugged her and whispered in her ear. "Ron told me he was a right git the other day. I'm sorry," Hermione smiled weakly in return, wondering exactly what Ron had told Harry of their argument. Probably very little.

Suddenly James skidded up, with Hugo hot on his heels. "Uncle Ron! Uncle Ron! Hugo thinks he's stronger than me, but I think I'm stronger than him. What do you think?" James made a muscle-man pose, grinning.

Albus tore up too, looking annoyed. "James, don't be such a jerk. Hugo's just a little kid."

"No I'm not," Hugo said, even more insulted by this. "Dad, tell them I'm not!"

"Well, you are kind of scrawny," said Ron, the great peacemaker. Hermione punched him hard on the arm. "Ow! I mean, don't worry, you'll get taller. I'm tall so you will be someday too."

"And strong and brave?" said James cheekily.

Ron laughed, "Yeah, you'll be strong and brave someday too, Hugo. Just like Harry and me, huh Harry?" Harry obligingly laughed and they both mimicked James muscle-man pose before starting to talk about the days when they'd gone to Hogwarts, with Hermione chiming in.

"I'm brave now," Hugo said, so quietly that no one heard but James.

"Prove it, tough guy," James smiled at him. He only meant it as a joke, to tease his young cousin, without realising that Hugo would take him seriously. Hugo stared at James for a second, his face filled with grim determination, before disappearing into the crowd of adults and children.

"I think you hurt his feelings," Albus said worriedly.

James shrugged it off. "I was just kidding, Hugo knows that. Race you to the other side of the field, ready-set-go!" Both boys took off again.

Of course, Hugo didn't know that, not really. Despite the resemblance to his mother that Draco had noticed, he had a lot of Ron in him as well. The thought took control of his mind – his father liked James better. No one thought Hugo was brave. He probably wouldn't even be sorted into Griffindor…

It was Draco who was the first to notice. He went looking for Hugo, checking all his favourite places before realising the boy's broom was gone. "Shit," he said quietly, and then yelled out to Hermione. "'MIONE!"

"What?" Hermione said, coming over to him, and worrying that Ron would be suspicious. "What's the matter?"

"It's Hugo," Draco said quietly. "I think he's gone flying without anyone else. His broom's missing and I can't find him anywhere. Grab Potter and Weaselette, they're both professional-level players. They can search the skies. I'll check the ground, get some of the others to look as well."

"Shit," said Hermione, unknowingly echoing Draco's response. She paled very quickly. "I should have noticed. I haven't seen him for ages, since James was teasing him about being strong and brave…"

At the same moment they both remembered the catastrophic flying lesson weeks ago. "Shit," Draco said again croakily, "Let's hurry."

Chaos reigned supreme from then – Hermione had everyone up and searching within seconds. Draco thought with distracted admiration that there was something of the Sergeant Major in his Hermione – a sharp contrast to her husband, who spilt his beer, swore, and went a little pale. Harry and Ginny both grabbed their brooms and took off quickly, searching in geometric patterns at different altitudes, yelling for Hugo until their voices disappeared.

As luck would have it, it was James who saw the broom first, hanging in the air above a tree. He screamed immediately, and everyone ran towards him. By the time Draco got there, there was a huge amount of people surrounding the lifeless and broken body tangled in the trees branches.

Scorpius hugged Rose Weasley to him, trying to comfort her, but she kept saying "Is he dead? IS HE DEAD?" in a voice so awful the people around her winced. It was Luna who did the sensible thing, for once in her life, quickly casting a floating charm to get Hugo onto the ground. She touched her hand to his neck, and then burst into tears.

"Get out of the way," Draco snapped, pushing her roughly aside, barely conscious of how rude he was being. He frantically felt Hugo's pulse – it was nonexistent. Draco hesitated for scarcely a second before dragging out his wand and casting the single healing spell that no Healer was legally supposed to do – "_Dismortis_," he whispered. The spell to bring back the recently dead. If Hugo had been dead too long, this spell would rebound and kill Draco too – and even if it worked, there was no guarantee the caster would survive.

Draco groaned as agony ripped through him, it was like the Cruciatus Curse all over again. He was on fire, burning up. He could feel some of his bones breaking under the immense strain, his muscles contracting, his stomach burning. He tried to speak through it. "Call…hospital…" he managed. "I'm holding his soul to his body…" Draco felt his vision going darker. He was dangerously close to fainting, and he knew there was a significant chance he wouldn't wake up. There were people crowding around him, speaking, but he could barely hear their voices. "Dad… Dad, what're you doing…" Then Hermione's face swam into view. "Look… after… Scorp… please." For a second he was sure he felt her tears on his face, or maybe those were his own tears. He would prefer to think that she was crying for him. He thought he heard the sound of Healer Jacob's voice… "Draco? DRACO!" They were here then… they'd look after Hugo, if Hugo was still there to be looked after. Draco gave in to the dark and floated away on the pain.

DDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDD

Hugo woke up. The sun was in his eyes and he tried to move away from it only to find he couldn't move. "What's happening?" he said, panicking. He couldn't feel his legs or his arms, not at all. In fact, he couldn't feel anything below his neck.

"It's okay," a young man reassured him, darkly silhouetted by the blazing son. "It's okay Hugo, you had a bad fall, but I'm fixing you up. Remember me? I'm Jacob, Draco's friend. And here's Healer's Assistant Nell, she wasn't here when you visited last time…" Jacob chattered on, pausing to mutter spells. The other Healers assisting him didn't talk, but kept moving constantly, casting spell after spell. In the background Hugo could hear people crying and screaming, the sound an odd contrast to the chirping birds and the sounds of a neighbour mowing.

With a sharp cracking noise, Hugo was suddenly able to feel his arms again – and they _hurt_. He moaned, trying to curl up in a ball, but Jacob said "Easy, easy, I'm going to stop the pain now," and forced him to drink a potion. Then Hugo could feel nothing at all, everything was lovely, there was no pain anywhere. The noises in the background faded into a gentle buzz, and then he opened his eyes to see his Uncle George – who somehow seemed to have regrown his ear.

"Uncle George?" Hugo said uncertainly. "How long have I been asleep?" He looked around himself. He was in one of the locker rooms at Starter School, the one where he kept his stuff. How did he end up here?

"I'm not Uncle George, I'm Uncle Fred," he said casually, stretching out his legs so they rested against the wall. Fred smiled at Hugo. "I've got to say, I expected to see my family again someday, but I didn't expect you to be the first one here."

"Why are you at my school?" Hugo asked, feeling sleepy. He realised a second after saying it that it was a stupid question to be asking a deceased uncle, but somehow the mystery of that didn't seem so important.

Fred frowned. "Your school? Is that where you think we are? I'm in the Griffindor Quidditch team's locker room. Well, I guess we all see things a little differently. I don't know why I'm here, exactly; I was somewhere else but then I got dragged back by you."

"I didn't drag you back," Hugo said, insulted.

"You did," Fred responded. "I know you didn't mean to, though. I think you're sort of dead."

"I'm dead?" Hugo wondered.

Fred shrugged negligently. "Sort of. Draco Malfoy seems to be trying to keep you from dying, but I don't know how long he can last. Honestly, it's surprising to realise he turned out so well. He was such a humongous prat at school."

"So… you're like a ghost," Hugo thought out loud. "Does that mean you should give me a message or something?"

Fred snorted. "Why should it? You don't have some kind of sacred duty I should be instructing you about. I think I'm just here to hang out with you until you either go back to being alive or join me in the fascinating sport of being dead."

Hugo glared at him. "I'm sort of dead. I think I deserve a message or something."

Fred paused, looking more serious. "Well, okay. Tell Lugless – that's Uncle George to you, sprout – that if I was there his wife would have chosen me to marry. Also, tell him to start work on a line of food that looks exactly like carrot and celery, but tastes like lollies. That was an idea I had up here – you know, so kids can snack on the good stuff without their parents knowing. I have a feeling it could work."

"That's not very… I don't know, ghost-like," Hugo said, frowning.

"Eh," Fred said. "So I'm a lousy ghost. Oh, I know… tell Lugless to start with the damn flying again. We loved Quidditch, and I don't see why he shouldn't still love it. I never wanted him to be a martyr."

"I don't even know what that last word means," Hugo replied. "I'll try and pass on what I can remember, though. Have you got anything I could eat?"

Fred nodded, and pulled out a package of Bertie Botts Every-Flavour Beans. "You better not leave me with the gross ones, though, kid," he warned.

They ate in silence for a while, until Hugo looked up again. "What did you mean when you said Draco was trying to keep me from dying? Is he healing me? Because I dreamed Jacob was doing that."

"No," Fred said contemplatively, spitting out a green bean in disgust. "Gross, chlorophyll. No, Jacob's the one working on you. The ferret seems to have brought you back to life. Sort of. He used some sort of spell… Dismortis?"

"He told me about that," Hugo looked terrified. "It's really dangerous, it kills most of the people who cast it. I don't want Draco to die."

"I don't want _you _to die," Fred said thoughtfully. "Personally, I'm still divided on the Amazing Bouncing Ferret. On the one side, he was a git when I knew him, but on the other side he does seem genuinely fond of you if the whole suicidal-spell thing is any indication. Could go either way." He spat out another bean. "Arrgh! Mould-flavoured!"

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**What? You didn't think Harry was the only one who could see dead people, did you? Clearly the afterlife is an important part of the wizarding world - ghosts, inferi, vampires, shadows, Prior Incantatem, the Resurrection Stone, I could go on. I wanted to bring that into it.**

**And, okay, I missed Fred.**


	12. The Lure of the Dark Side

When Draco opened his eyes, he was in the drawing room at the Manor. It was his least favourite room of the house for many reasons – his father had slapped him here once, and used Unforgivable Curses on him another time in order to teach him how to throw off Imperio and withstand Crucio. Then. Much later, Granger had been tortured in it, and then large amounts of people had been tortured and killed by the Dark Lord for the trio's escape. Draco never went in the drawing room if he could help it, and on the rare occasions he made forays into it he always thought he could see his father out of the corner of his eye.

"Hello, Draco," Lucius' mellifluous voice sounded from the chair next to him as if on cue. "Goodness, but you do look like me now. It's good to know your mother's genes haven't taken over entirely."

Draco turned his head to stare at his father. Somehow it felt perfectly normal that Lucius was here. As if he'd known all along his father would be here, now, and he'd just temporarily forgotten it. "Goddamn it," Draco said, his eyes tracing his father's face, so similar to his own and yet so different. "You know, I really thought I'd made up for the sins of my past. You know, at least enough to only be in one of the lesser levels of hell. But instead of getting me nice and crispy, Satan just sends me to family bonding… ingenious, really. Much worse than the Cruciatus Curse."

Lucius bared his teeth. "You really do think you're clever, don't you, Draco? I remember when I could make you cry by frowning at you."

Draco grasped the glass of firewhiskey that had suddenly appeared on the arm of his chair, and took a hefty swig. "You can still do that, father. Have you considered surgery? Healers can do some wonderful things nowadays. Can't do much about your mind, but it's just possible they can repair your face -"

"Quiet," Lucius said. "This is not hell, and annoying me won't make me disappear."

"Well, you'd know the difference between this and hell, wouldn't you, father? How many people did you kill in the name of the Dark Lord?"

"None," Lucius said flatly. "I didn't kill them for the Dark Lord, I killed them because I enjoyed it. Him ordering it was just a fortunate coincidence. Had I been killing for the Ministry, or Dumbledore, or our family, I would have enjoyed it just as much. Everybody I killed was in my own name. You know that."

"Yes," Draco said softly. "I always wondered what twisted you to the point where killing was enjoyable, and Malfoy pride was the most important thing. Your family issues were clearly a lot more complex than mine…"

Lucius took a sip of his drink. "Do you really believe I ended up in hell?"

Draco stared into the fire, away from his father's eerily familiar face. "I have to believe it. Otherwise, what's the point? Did you face your actions, father? I hope you did."

"I really thought you'd be like me, when you were a young child," Lucius mused. "You were logical, and cold, and ruthless. But you were beaten by the Potter boy again and again, and by the mudblood as well. I loved you, but you were useless."

"Yes, I'm sure you loved me very deeply," Draco said sarcastically. "Was this great filial concern exterminated before or after you let a maniac with a basilisk into my school?" Draco threw down half the firewhiskey in one quick movement. "I hated introducing a werewolf into there, but you didn't flinch at the thought of a murderous snake."

"It was to hurt mudbloods," Lucius said, but his voice lacked conviction.

Draco looked up at his father again, startled almost into laughter. "Please. And it wouldn't have killed me in a second if I'd been standing in the wrong corridor? Not great on restraint, basilisks. Mother and I deserved better than you." Draco paused for a second. "Actually, why am I speaking to you here instead of mother? I assume I'm supposed to be speaking to someone I know who's deceased, if I'm dying, but why are you here instead of her?"

Lucius shrugged. "Because you think of me more than you think of her. When you think of death, you think of me. That's why I'm here instead of her."

Draco nodded, understanding. "Right. So I am dying?"

Lucius shrugged again, looking even more like his son. "It would be more correct to say you're half dead."

"Huh," said Draco, taking another swig. "Well, I hope it's not my top half. I enjoy staring at naked women too much." He considered that for a second, and then added thoughtfully, "though I suppose it's not much use staring at them if my bottom half is dead. I can see bonuses to both, I guess."

Lucius stared at this son, the firelight reflected in his eyes. It made him look almost like the demon Draco sometimes thought he had been. "I never raised you to be like this. To make light of serious matters. To laugh at yourself instead of others. But at least I can still see part of me in you…"

"What part?" Draco said, staring at the fire again instead of looking at his father. "Is it the hair? Because for the past decade I've been making a conscious effort to avoid hair gel -"

"It's the part of you that is willing to let the boy die," Lucius said very precisely. "Oh, that's very like me. Except I would have killed him myself instead of just standing back…"

"I didn't stand back," Draco said, half-rising out of his chair. "I did the spell."

"But you hesitated," Lucius' voice was uncaring, smooth and contained. He could have been talking about the weather, thought Draco with a surge of hate. As if the life of his son was a mere postscript to be easily scanned and discarded. "You didn't want to do it. You looked around and thought that you had so much to live for."

"Of course I didn't want to do it," Draco sat down again. "No one would, not really. But I _did_ do it. You wouldn't have. I'm not you."

"He's the child of a mudblood and a blood-traitor, Draco. Why does he matter to you?"

"He's a child," Draco glanced at his glass, which was somehow full again. "He should matter to me. He should matter to you, too, but I know he doesn't. I remember you muggle-baiting little muggle children. Did you even see their faces? They were little children… they're what adults like you should protect. I'll spend my life making up for what you've done."

Lucius just laughed, as if his son had finally said something witty.

"What did you mean, when you said Hugo would die?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow, just like Draco so frequently did. "I don't believe I said any such thing."

"You implied it," Draco said shortly. "Don't play these games with me. Will Hugo die because I hesitated?"

There was a pause. "No," Lucius admitted, "But he will die. You made sure of that. There's a reason you're only half dead, and it's because the boy is half alive. You can't trade in halves when it's a life for a life."

"You're saying it's a swap," Draco said, feeling cold. "I can choose to die, and Hugo will live. Or I can choose to live and Hugo will die."

"Oh, yes," said Lucius with gentle malice. "It's a bit different when it comes to certain death, isn't it? Risking your life is one thing, but giving it is quite another." He smiled, and continued in honeyed tones. "You won't remember the choice, you know, if you choose life. You'll wake up and the boy won't and no one will know it was your choice, or even that there was a choice. You'll never even feel the guilt."

"No," Draco replied. "But I will feel the pain. Because Hugo won't be there anymore."

"He's not your son."

"He's Hermione's," said Draco. "and after Scorpius, Hermione and Hugo are the most important things in the world to me."

"Even if she chooses the blood traitor over you? Except she's already done that, hasn't she?" Lucius smirked, draining his glass. "I can hear her mind from here, you know. A Weasel versus a ferret, she thinks. She wonders what the difference is… she thinks you're no better than you ever were…"

"Try to be less obvious in your lies, father," Draco said abruptly. "Hermione doesn't think like that. Do you really believe I would fall for the woman without knowing her? We've spent hours talking, as friends. I've read articles about her, spoken to her, watched her. Hermione believes in redemption and she believes in me… it's one of the reasons I love her. I think I've loved her like that since I saw her at the train station several months ago… there was something about her eyes."

"Oh, her eyes. Excellent basis for a strong relationship," he said snidely.

Draco ignored his father completely. "Hermione's beautiful, and strong, and incredible. I do know her."

"You've fallen for women before without knowing them," Lucius pointed out. "I remember the first time I spoke to Astoria, a month before the two of you even met. I decided she would be your wife, I told her what to say and do, I even organised the way you two met. A masquerade party where you danced all night unaware of each others' identities – don't think there isn't a touch of the romantic in me."

"That was a long time ago," Draco replied. "I'm not that stupid anymore. Does this thing with Hugo have a time limit? Is there even time here?"

"Oh, there's time," Lucius pointed lazily to the clock hanging over the fireplace. Draco was sure it had never been there before. "The hand is getting closer to twelve. Would you really choose death? It's not so enjoyable as you would think."

Draco glanced at the clock. It was ticking closer, only seconds away from hitting the twelve. "I'm not you, father," Draco said. "not even close," and he shot out of his chair and leapt straight into the fire.

DDDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDD DDDDDD

Hugo jerked upright, sweating. "Mum?" he croaked. His mother was lying with her head on his pillow, holding him. She was jolted awake too by the sound of his voice.

"Oh, God," Hermione said. "You're alive. Oh, Hugo, oh, honey, you're alive," and she hugged him so tightly he felt like he was suffocating. Hugo's father looked up from his chair too, his eyes brightening. He stepped forwards and hugged Hugo too, wrapping his arms around both of them.

Ron pulled away quickly. "Everyone's outside, I'll go tell them you're awake… and, you know, alive. They're all waiting to hear. Oh! And I'll go get the Healer -" he nearly sprinted out of the room.

Hugo frowned at his mother. "Did you really think I wouldn't be alive?"

Hermione's smile wavered. "They said it could go either way," she leaned closer, confidingly. "Your father got very mad when they said that. He nearly punched out poor Jacob, we had to hold him back."

Hugo frowned again. "Jacob's been Healing me? Why hasn't Draco -" and then he remembered. "Oh… Draco did the Dismortis Charm…is he okay?"

"How did you know he did the charm?" Hermione stared at him, her eyes going perfectly round in amazement. "I hadn't gotten there yet but from what I heard you were somewhat dead at that point."

"Yeah," Hugo said, beginning to feel more worried since his mother hadn't responded. There was also an odd, tight look about Hermione, and her sentences seemed fluttering and uncertain. "I was. How's Draco?"

"I checked five minutes ago," Hermione assured him, smiling determinedly. "Just before you woke up, in fact. And he was in much the same state as you were, very fast asleep."

"So they don't know if he'll die." Hugo stated flatly.

"You woke up," Hermione stressed. "We have to believe he will, too."

"Who cares?" muttered Ron, re-entering the room flanked by a large group of Weasleys, as well as the Potters, and with Hayley bringing up the rear. Ron caught Hermione and Hugo's expressions of horror at what he'd said, and added hastily. "I mean, I'm sure Malfoy will be fine. I'm just happy we have you back, Hugo." Everybody in the group surrounded Hugo, hugging him and kissing him and exclaiming with delight. Lily stayed close by his side through force of will, refusing to be dislodged, holding Hugo's hand tightly as if she thought her oldest friend would slip away. Jacob smiled at him, and forced a Sleeping Draught down his throat, telling the others Hugo needed his rest.

Hugo felt very tired suddenly, and a lot like crying. He didn't want Draco to die. Then he spotted Uncle George at the very back of the group. "Uncle George,' he cried out, struggling to remember everything her was supposed to, and fighting against the onset of sleep. "He told me to tell you…"

"Who told you?" George said, coming to the front. "Did Malfoy say something?"

"No," Hugo said, fighting a yawn. "He said to call you Lugless, and say your wife would have liked him better than you. And he said to make lollies that look like vegetables in your shop…"

"What?" said George, going pale. "Who said… how did you…"

"He said to say he never wanted you to be a mattress," Hugo said, half-asleep. "No, not a mattress, something else that sounds like that… he said to play Quidditch first, and the he said not to be a mattress…"

George looked like he was about to faint. For once, he seemed completely unable to smile. His wife wound an arm around his waist and to the others it looked like that was the only thing keeping him up. "Hugo, how -" But Hugo was already asleep. George looked at his wife. "Lugless," he whispered. "He called me Lugless."

"Yes," she said quietly. "I know."

Suddenly loud noises started coming from the next room – Draco's room. People were yelling and hurrying into it. "We're losing him!" Hermione heard clearly. "We're losing him!" and suddenly George wasn't the only one close to fainting.

DDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDD

As soon as Draco leapt into the fire it turned emerald green, like he'd thrown floo powder in. When he stepped out it was onto a grassy slope. Draco turned quickly, but the fireplace had completely disappeared. There was, however, a lake.

"Hogwarts," he said, almost to himself.

"Is it really?" a cheerful voice came from behind him. "I have missed the place, you know, although I suppose in some ways I've never left."

Draco spun around again, to find that what had previously been a deserted hill now had Professor Dumbledore sweeping down it. "Well," Draco said, deciding to act like this was totally normal, "Your body is still here. I missed the funeral, though."

"Understandable," said Dumbledore happily. "After all, you thought it was your fault! You thought you'd caused my death… quite paralysed with guilt, you were."

"I planned your death," Draco said stoutly. "It was murder."

"_I_ planned it," Dumbledore replied firmly. "It was not murder, it was suicide – well, it wasn't even suicide, really, it was euthanasia. I imagine as a medical practitioner you know that word? Draco, you've never been a killer. You didn't cause my death, and you didn't wield the wand which ended my life."

"But I meant you to die, and you did," Draco said softly. "I planned it, and then it happened. I thought I hated you."

"I know," Dumbledore said, matching his softness. "But Draco, my boy, it really is time to let that go. You didn't hate me, and you didn't kill me, and you've spent twenty years making up for the atrocities someone else forced you to commit – you had _no choice_, Draco. It might have been your wand that cast Crucio on people, but it was Voldemort's sin. Oh, if it had been Harry Potter in your position, who you were always so jealous of, he might have thrown his life away uselessly only so Voldemort could torture those people himself. But you're a Slytherin, Draco. It does not necessarily mean you are ruthless and cruel; it just means that, like Professor Snape, you are aware that it is better to live and fight later then to die in a way which does no one any good. That is a different kind of bravery – to withstand, and to eventually do some good."

"I didn't do anyone any good, all through the war," Draco said through numb lips. "Even in the end battle I didn't fight on the right side – I didn't fight on either side, really, I just tried to avoid the whole thing and stop Crabbe from killing anyone."

"A job you did admirably," Dumbledore said politely. "Don't you want to know why you are here?"

"I hoped…" said Draco slowly. "I hoped this was heaven. But it's not, is it?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, it's not. It's yet another place in between – or rather, a place within you. You spoke to Lucius before me, didn't you?"

"Yes. He was the same as always."

"I'm sure," Dumbledore said sadly. "I knew him when he was a cruel little boy, and when I saw you I felt certain you would be just the same. Which just goes to show I am sometimes, as you used to call me, a crackpot old fool."

"I don't think so anymore. So much of what you said turned out to be right," Draco hesitated. "And I am… quite like my father."

"Not really," Dumbledore responded. "Lucius is the dark side of you. He's everything you fear you are – and that is why you are nothing like him. Even I had a dark side, Draco," Dumbledore said softly. "So did Severus, as I'm sure you know. And we both overcame it. But overcoming it does not mean what you think it does – it doesn't mean destroying your dark side. It means fighting it every day, and being a better person for it."

"So… that's why I saw him?" Draco said slowly. "Because he's my dark side? Does that mean you're my lighter side?"

"So literal!" Dumbledore smiled proudly. "But in essence you are correct. You fought your dark side, and you must have won or you'd still be there. You fought and won as you do every day – it's how you can Heal people who are often rude and insulting to you. It's how you can avoid killing Ron Weasley even though you love his wife. It's how you can make the decision to give up your life for a child's."

"I lied," Draco said plainly. "I don't love Hermione. It's more like an infatuation than love… I listen to her speak and everything she says just seems so _right_, you know? But that's infatuation, not love. I just said it was love to annoy my father."

"Yes?" Dumbledore smiled. "Well, perhaps. But sometimes a lie can reveal a truth. And what does she feel towards you?"

"I think…" Draco said slowly. "I think she's lonely, and hurt. Her marriage is rotting from the inside out, and if I pushed, she might choose me."

"Then why didn't you push?"

"Stepping back was the right thing to do," Draco said firmly. "Even if she chose me, it would hurt her. As much as I hate the Weasel, he is the love of her life. If she chose me she'd lose so much… she'd hate herself, for doing that to her children. It's better if I'm her friend. Then I can be around her, talk to her, and take care of her. At least I have that."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said softly. "Lucius was wrong about you, Draco. You have the capacity to love greatly indeed if you can choose to be so selfless. I'm amazed at what you did for Hugo."

"So… was what Lucius said true? Will I die?"

"Well," Dumbledore said placidly. "I'm not always right. But I, for one, think that Lucius never tells the truth when a lie would serve as well. I suspect, eventually, you'll wake up."

"And forget all this?" said Draco with a touch of cynicism.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "But I do want you to remember this." He leaned down slightly, so his face was of equal height to Draco's. His blue eyes gleamed through his half-moon glasses. "You are not your father. His sins aren't yours. You did not kill me. You were a cruel, nasty little boy, and you've grown into an exceptional man and a wonderful father. And eventually, you will be rewarded for everything, even if it's not with Hermione Weasley."

"Thank you," Draco felt unaccountably sad as the grounds started to fade around him. "Thank you, sir."

Draco opened his eyes. The world was ridiculously bright, and right there was Hermione, staring at him in shock. She was the only person in the room, but Draco didn't even notice that – at that moment, to him, she was the only person in the world. He leaned forwards and kissed her.

Perhaps this was heaven, after all.

DDDDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDD DDDDDD

**I realise my Draco is incredibly nice, and I know a lot of people object to the Slytherin Prince being turned into Prince Charming in stories. But the way I always think of Draco is like the way I think of Snape, and Dumbledore – both of whom used to be into the Dark Arts.**

**When Dumbledore turned good, he turned **_**really**_** good, and the only part he really kept of his personality was his manipulativeness. Snape remained a jerk but was still a force for good.**

**My Draco is the same – he feels guilt for his actions, every day, and still retains his snarkiness and is ruthless when necessary, but he is honestly a good guy. Twenty years have passed, and he's a father now, and he has a job – of course he's not going to be the same person he was when he was a teenager!**

**EXTRA AUTHOR'S NOTE: A lot of people have been asking about the timeline here. I've been working on the assumption that the British school year bears some similarities to the one over here in Oz. In my timeline, the kids had summer holidays, and then at the start of autumn went to Hogwarts. It's roughly the end of autumn now and, yes, whoever pointed that out, there should be Christmas and not barbecues. But I'm Australian so this is all confusing me since barbecues in Australia are **_**always**_** held around Christmas, and I will do my best to make these into actual Christmas holidays, I promise.**


	13. Money Changes Hands

"Hello, darling," an icy voice came from the door, causing Hermione and Draco to jerk away from each other. Astoria smiled coldly at the pair, but Draco could see the rage in her eyes. Oh, crap. "You're awake, I see."

Draco was immediately grateful that she'd been the first to enter when from behind her Scorpius yelled, "Dad? DAD? You're awake!" he pushed past his mother eagerly, completely unaware of what she'd seen when she entered the room. He flew to Draco, for once not exhibiting his habitual reserve. "Oh, Dad, I was so scared," he sobbed, and threw himself at Draco, clinging to him. "They said… they said…"

"I'm fine," Draco said, hugging his son, who continued to sob into his chest. "I promise, I'm fine now. I seem pretty well fixed." He turned his eyes towards his ex-wife. "Astoria, what are you doing here?"

Astoria examined her nails closely. "They had to get someone to take care of our son," then she added with a flicker of amusement. "And I'm still your emergency contact after all. I've been checking on you every few minutes. Not camping out like your groupie here."

Draco turned to Hermione, remembering doing the spell. "Is Hugo okay?"

"Perfectly," said Hermione, struggling to act normally. "He asks about you quite often… I should go tell him you've woken up." Hermione made as if to leave the room, but turned around quickly. "Thank you… for what you did," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. "If I'd lost Hugo… Thank you. I couldn't handle losing anoth-"

"Don't be silly," Draco replied, hugely uncomfortable. "I'm just glad he's okay. I didn't know if it would work. Have you yelled at him yet for how stupid he was?"

"I'm waiting till he's stronger," Hermione said. "Then I'm going to yell so loudly he won't be able to hear anything for weeks." She gave him an odd, quick smile and then left the room.

"Well," said Astoria, as Scorpius continued to hug his father. "I must admit, you've caught me quite by surprise, Draco," Draco looked up at her, knowing she was trying to make him nervous, threatening to reveal what she'd seen. "…Waking up, I mean," Astoria continued, her smile sharp. "You looked quite dead when they first called me. I thought I'd have to give you the Kiss of Life… but I suppose that was unnecessary for _me_ to do."

"How do you even know what the Kiss of Life is?" Draco countered.

Astoria shrugged gracefully. "Give me some credit, darling. I was married to a Healer for fourteen years, I was bound to pick up some things. The Kiss of Life is a muggle thing, isn't it? Quite close to the Kiss of Death."

"Nothing at all like the Kiss of Death," Draco said tightly. Scorpius looked up, wide-eyed, understanding that there was a fight going on but not certain what about.

Astoria smirked. "Oh, they're closer than you might think. In… some cases."

Draco paused. "Scorp, could you go tell Harold and the others that I'm all right?" he said carefully. "They must be scared out of their wits. You know where the fire is around here, ask Jacob to give you some floo powder."

Scorpius hesitated as he stood up, brushing a sleeve across his eyes. "Dad," he said in a small voice. "You almost _died_ for that kid. You almost left me. Do you… do you love him more than me?"

"_What_?" said Draco, honestly shocked. "Of course not! Hugo's like a nephew to me, but you're my _son_. I might risk death to save Hugo, but I would do _anything_ for you. You're amazing, Scorp, and I don't love anyone in the world more than you." Scorpius smiled, apparently convinced. He gave his father another quick hug.

As Scorpius left the room, Draco turned to Astoria again. "Astoria, I hate to skip more of the taunts and veiled threats, but what day is it?"

Astoria's smile disappeared. She looked down. "Monday," she said quietly. "Monday night. You've been asleep about two and a half days. I was so scared… I know you think I'm a heartless bitch, Draco, and maybe you're right, but I do care about you."

"I know you do," Draco said, taking her hand. And it was the truth, he reflected: Astoria was too self-absorbed to love anyone except herself, really, but he knew that what she felt for him was probably the closest she could get to love for another person. And that almost-love might have been enough, but then Scorpius had been born, and Draco had realised that while he could live with Astoria's almost-love for him he couldn't live with her utter disinterest in their child.

Astoria smiled down at him, but now her smile didn't reach her eyes again. "If you know I care about you, and you care about me, why are you making out with mudbloods?"

"Only the one," Draco said, trying to appear unruffled. "And I was just… caught up in the moment, I suppose. I mean, the last thing I remember is thinking that I wasn't going to wake up, and then I did. I suppose that was just celebration."

"Right," said Astoria cynically. "I'm not an idiot. You never looked at me like that, and she was hardly pushing you away. She's married, darling. What are you thinking?"

"There is nothing between me and Hermione," Draco stated. "I swear, Astoria, I have never slept with Hermione Gra-Weasley. I am not having an affair with her."

"Maybe not yet," Astoria said thoughtfully. "But even that little kiss would be enough to worry her red-headed husband, wouldn't it?"

Draco sighed. "Be straight with me. What do you want?" Astoria named a sum that made Draco's eyebrows fly up. "Want another country house, I suppose? Or is this a shopping trip in Milan?"

"Maybe I have a boytoy I need to pay the upkeep for," Astoria remarked dryly. "Wire the money to me by next week or he'll starve."

Draco couldn't help grinning at her. "You'll never need to hire boyfriends, Astoria. I can say that with certainty, but I can also say with certainty it's one of your few good points. Blackmail – that's nasty."

Astoria smiled thinly. "Well, darling, stay away from the mudblood, or we'll find out just how nasty I can be. And we wouldn't want that to sour our relationship, would we?"

DDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDD

"Hermione!" Harry grinned at his old friend. "Honestly, I didn't expect to find you here. I just came over to grab some of Rose's stuff."

"Well," Hermione shrugged. "Now that Hugo's getting better so quickly, I don't need to spend every hour with him. Ron's gone off to catch up on some work, and I left our darling son amusing himself by taunting the fellow in the next bed. Poor guy was stung by a magically-altered squirrel." Actually, Hermione was also avoiding Draco, who now that he was awake seemed to stare at her a lot, as if thinking about something important. Hermione didn't blame him for the kiss – he'd probably just been confused, waking up like that. However she couldn't help wondering what he actually wanted from her – just an affair? Or did he actually have a more serious interest in her? Not that it mattered, because she had Ron. Whatever weird feelings she had for Draco, she would ignore them. It was just an… just an infatuation, she decided, unaware that Draco had categorised his feelings for her the same way. The fighting intrigued her, and he was undeniably very attractive, and certainly they were becoming close friends, but that was it. Just an infatuation.

Harry laughed. "So when's Hugo coming home? I mean, it's not that we don't love having Rose," he hurried to say, "But she really misses you guys. Of course, she likes our pool a lot – when are you and Ron having yours put in?"

"We're not going to get a pool," Hermione said decisively. "There's no space, for one thing -" she broke off. Harry's face looked unusually blank. "What is it, Harry?" Hermione demanded. "You're a lousy liar, even by omission. Just tell me."

"Ron told me you were getting a pool," Harry said slowly. "He… er… said that there was an issue at Gringotts and you couldn't get money out of your account, so he borrowed some from me."

Hermione felt her hands clench. "How much, Harry?"

Harry hesitated. "A lot," he admitted. "But it's no trouble. Maybe he's… trying to surprise you, or something?"

"You don't believe that any more than I do," Hermione whispered. "He's gone back to that damn casino. He's been so distracted lately, but he promised, and I thought…" she broke off again. "Where's the casino? You know where it is, I'd bet anything." Hermione didn't even notice her accidental pun. "Take me there, now."

Harry didn't argue, just grabbed her arm and twisted on the spot.

DDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDD

It reminded Hermione a lot of Muggle casinos, not that she'd ever really been in one. But from what she'd seen on TV in her childhood this was very similar. There were lights everywhere, really too many lights. And far too much noise. All the waitresses looked part-veela and their hair sparkled distractingly in the glaring neon.

Harry looked distinctly uneasy. "I've only been here once with Ron," he muttered. "I didn't realise… he didn't seem… I'm sorry, 'Mione. I should have told you…"

"Did you really not know what he was using your money for?" Hermione said, elbowing through the crowd. Some of the waitresses were wearing rabbit ears and tails, and she wondered if they knew how ridiculous they looked.

"No," Harry said solemnly. "I really thought he was over the whole gambling thing. He said, after he promised you, that he wouldn't come here again. Except one last time, with me. And he only lost a couple of galleons! When he asked for the money, it never even crossed my mind. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," Hermione replied. "But it's not your fault. Dammit, I can't find him anywhere." She grabbed the arm of a passing bunny. "Have you seen a tall man, red hair, lots of freckles?"

"You mean Ron," the bunny nodded, her glare dissolving into a smile. "God, of course I know Ron, he comes here every day, for hours. Most nights too. He's probably over there at the Wizarding Poker table, it's where he lost most of his money yesterday."

"How much money has he lost?" Hermione said, her stomach clenching with fear.

"It's not really our policy to tell people about that kind of thing -" the waitress cut herself off. "God, you're Harry Potter, aren't you? The Boy Who Lived? The auror? My mother is _such_ a fan of you, she cuts out all the newspaper articles on you…"

Hermione couldn't suppress a snort at the look on Harry's face as he realised he'd become this generation's Gilderoy Lockhart. "Yes, it is Harry Potter," she said seriously. "I'm his assistant. We're here on important auror business. Tell us what you know about Ron, and Harry will even give you an autograph."

"Oh! Cool!" The waitress gave Harry a pen and a napkin. "The only thing I know is, since about a week ago, Ron's been gambling on credit. I mean, first he came in with lots of money – really flashing it around, you know? And he made loads, too, did really well. But then he came back and lost even more than he'd made. He stopped tipping us with galleons about then. Now he just writes lots of IOUs. I don't know how many he's in debt for, though. I'm sorry I can't help you more, Mr Potter. Good luck." She paused. "Are you arresting him for murder, or an Unforgivable, or something?"

"What?" said Hermione. "No, no, he's… er… helping us with our inquiries, if you know what I mean." She tapped her nose, feeling faintly ridiculous. "Which way is the Wizarding Poker table?"

The bunny pointed to their left, grabbing the napkin with Harry's signature on it. "Oh, my Mum will be so pleased with this. It will get pride of place on her Harry Potter wall, just you watch!" She sauntered off, clutching the napkin tightly.

Harry watched her go, dismay written clearly on his face. "Did she just say… Harry Potter _wall_?"

"Not important, Harry," Hermione snapped, grabbing his arm. "Come on, let's go." She spotted Ron quite soon. He was sweating, but roaring with laughter. He waved his left hand expressively while with his right he regularly took a swig of whatever he was drinking. As Hermione watched, he lay down a hand, pointed at the guy next to him in mock accusation, and then threw a handful of paper towards him. "Oh no," Hermione said softly. Harry looked just as worried. "Come on," she said suddenly. "We're getting him out of here. You take his left arm, I'll take his right, and then we damn well drag him out." Harry opened his mouth to protest this plan, but then spotted the look on Hermione's face and meekly fell into step.

They had Ron out of there in under a minute. Some of the people at the table tried to stop them, but Harry flashed his auror's badge and looked important and they cleared out of the way quickly. Ron himself kept trying to twist around to see who was dragging him, yelling, but then he recognised Hermione and fell silent. "Hermione, I can explain -" he started to say, but she cut him off.

"The hell you can. But you will be trying, later," She spun on the spot. It had been a while since Hermione had apparated, now that most places she went to had a floo connection, but she was pleased to see she was just as good at it as she'd ever been.

Harry looked at her as she steadied herself with the door to the house. "Do… do you want me here?" he asked quietly, clearly longing to go home to Ginny and avoid what he knew would be a huge argument.

"It's okay, Harry," Hermione said wearily. "We're not fifteen anymore, you don't have to take sides. You can go home."

Hermione dragged Ron into the house, and deposited him in the nearest armchair. "Ron, what the hell were you thinking?" she said, and then muttered a sobering spell when he was slow to respond.

He winced. "Aargh, Hermione, did you have to do that? I wasn't that drunk, just pleasantly calm."

"Yes, I had to. Ron, seriously, what the hell were you thinking?" she repeated. "You promised. You _promised_."

"I'm glad you know," Ron said, ignoring her question. "Now I can stop hiding it, and avoiding you, and feeling guilty." He looked up at Hermione's face. "That's why I went off at you the other day, you know. I'd had a bit too much to drink and I'd spent the whole day losing money, and I was so stressed, and I just lost it. I wanted to tell you it really wasn't me, but I didn't want you to know about this…" Ron's face went grey. "It was horrible. It was like I could hear my voice saying all these disgusting, unforgivable things… I don't even remember most of it… did I suggest a threesome? I just wanted us to have a fight, I wanted you to get mad so I could really yell at you. I wanted to pick a fight so I'd feel better -"

"How much money have you lost?" Hermione interrupted. Part of her filed what he'd said away for future thought – _he didn't mean it. It was just the alcohol and the stress and the anger_ – but most of her homed in on what was the truly important part. "I mean, including what we owe Harry and Ginny. _How much have you lost_?"

Again, he ignored. "I'm not addicted, you know. It's just fun. And I'm good at it, really -"

"The waitress told us you were betting on credit," Hermione pointed out. "You can't be that good."

Ron waved a hand dismissively. "Just a slight run of bad luck. I'll come around."

"No, you won't," Hermione said sharply. "You're not going back there. You're cutting your losses. And how much are those losses, exactly?" Ron hesitated, and then named a sum that made Hermione blanche. "Oh my god. We'll have to mortgage the house. How long will they give us to pay?"

"The normal amount of time is two weeks," Ron replied. "But, Hermione, you aren't listening. I'm going to win it back -"

"No, Ron, you're not listening!" Hermione yelled. "You are _not_ going back there! What the hell is wrong with you? You promised me you wouldn't go, and you went, and you've lost all our savings – we'll have to mortgage the house, and empty the kids' college funds – oh god, the kids." Hermione sat down heavily on the floor. She wanted to cry and panic and faint, but someone had to organise all this. If Ron really had been gambling since he'd promised to stop, some of the debts were already overdue – really overdue. He'd been addicted to gambling for months and she hadn't noticed. From the sound of it he'd also been drinking a bit too much. What kind of wife was she? She'd stressed about the kids and Draco and how _she _felt, and she'd never even noticed what was happening to Ron.

Ron started talking about how he was going to win it all back, really, and how he wasn't addicted, not at all, but Hermione ignored him, her mind frantically exploring all avenues. If she emptied out all their savings, they'd be able to keep the house. Harry wouldn't expect them to pay immediately – that was good. Perhaps she'd have to stop working in her specific branch of law and start working on high-paying divorce cases again. They'd manage.

After all, they'd have to manage, wouldn't they?

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**A lot of people don't understand that gambling addiction is a serious thing – just like alcoholics or drug addicts, gamblers will do whatever it takes to keep on gambling. It's a real addiction – there are even rehabs specialising in it.**

**So borrowing money from Harry to gamble with might not be in Ron-the-good-guy's character, but if he's a compulsive gambler now then there's no telling what he could do. Gambling addiction is real, and it can happen very quickly, and it always screws up lives. So please... anyone who thinks this is OOC for Ron, you're right. But don't tell me, because it's supposed to be! This isn't Ron-the-hotheaded-sweetie, this is Ron-the-screwed-up-gambling-addict. They aren't the same person.**


	14. Slow Heal

The next few days were tortuous for Hermione – she organised the mortgage of their home, and emptied out all their accounts in order to pay Ron's debts. She sent Harry with him to repay the debts – it was horrible to admit, but she was no longer sure if she trusted Ron not to gamble it away.

Actually, Hermione had to admit her trust in Ron had reached an all-time low. It was pathetic of her, she knew, but she'd told Harry to watch him at work and make sure he didn't nip out to gamble anymore. When Harry pointed out that this was a kind of betrayal, Hermione reminded him that Ron losing more of their money would be an even bigger betrayal. She also informed Ron that she expected him to arrive home exactly ten minutes after the end of work. Within the past year, Hermione felt like she'd gone from Ron's wife to his mother and now finally to his parole officer. They were barely speaking at all now, tiptoeing around the subject of money. In the night, Ron clung to Hermione like a small child, scared she would leave, and sometimes she felt strangled by him.

Worst of all was trying to explain it to Rose and Hugo. Instead of telling them the truth, Hermione went against all her beliefs and lied flat out to them, saying some rubbish about falling stocks and an accident at the bank. She needed them to accept that they would be economising for a good long while. There would be no new broomsticks, or fancy dress robes, or self-cleaning cauldrons, or fancy Junior-Potion-Making kits. Frankly, in their new cashless state Hermione was pleased they could still afford decent food. Hugo – still in St Mungos until Friday – was completely oblivious to the change in their lifestyle, despite what Hermione had said, but Rose was hardly talking to Ron or Hermione out of annoyance at their "poverty".

It was less than a week to Christmas, and that wasn't helping matters at all. Hermione was incredibly grateful she'd bought the presents nearly a month ago and they would be good ones, but the extra stress of decorating and organising was exactly what Hermione didn't need.

Outside their family, Harry was the only one who knew what was going on. Well, and Ginny, who found out everything from Harry sooner or later. As a result Ginny kept "popping by" to give them loads of "useless leftovers, I know I cook way too much". Hermione appreciated it but also felt slightly insulted by it, used to being the one dispensing charity instead of on the receiving end.

Hermione was also now seriously considering making the jump to a more profitable area of law, and knew she'd have to talk to Hayley about it, since it would cause a major change in Hayley's life too. Hermione was unsure how to tell Hayley about everything that was happening with Ron – the age gap somehow felt bigger when they talked about Ron. Hermione knew Hayley would never understand this. Hayley was young, she still believed things were black and white – she either wanted someone or she didn't. She could never fully comprehend Hermione's twisted mixture of love for Ron and shame at his actions, much less how Hermione could be unsure about whether or not her pure love for Ron had somehow faded into a sense of obligation from their marriage.

So, home life was awkward, and at work things were scarcely better. When Draco breezed into her office on Thursday to take her out for chips again, Hermione didn't hesitate. At least with Draco conversation wouldn't be lacking – if nothing else, they could always fight.

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"Hermione," Draco said, halfway through the meal. "Are you going to tell me what's the matter?"

Hermione jerked her head towards him, realising she'd blanked out again. She'd been calculating what jobs to take this week – normally she looked for a mixture between profitable and pro bono, but she knew she'd have to completely change that system until she worked out a higher-paying job. She couldn't afford to give freebies. "What?"

"Accio Hermione's attention," Draco said dryly. "Summoning Hermione Granger's attention… sorry, Hermione Weasley's. What's up? You've been ignoring me for the whole meal."

"Maybe you're just forgettable," Hermione flared up.

Draco grinned at her. "Great! I was worried the stunned gratitude for saving your firstborn son would last out the week, but it seems we're back to insults already."

"Oh, dammit, I'm sorry, Draco," Hermione apologised, grabbing another chip. "I've just got a lot on my mind lately."

Draco watched her curiously, resisting the urge to touch her hand. "Want to tell me what's the matter? Maybe I can help. Is it something to do with Hugo? Because you know Jacob says he's perfectly fine, and I agree. He's only being kept in until tomorrow because we like to watch child patients for a while in case they suddenly turn into weasels – though," he added with a flicker of humour. "I suppose it's a little late for that, huh?"

"It's not Hugo," Hermione assured him. "Hugo seems fine. I mean, he says he's never flying again, but I've got to admit I kind of agree with that."

"He can't be scared for the rest of his life," Draco looked Hermione square in the eyes. "Caution is fine, but fear eats you up. Really, what's the matter?"

Hermione hesitated. To tell him seemed a betrayal of Ron, but she needed to talk to someone who wouldn't try and defend him like Ginny and Harry did. She needed someone to agree with her that what Ron had done was unforgivable, and then maybe she could start trying to forgive him anyway. "It's Ron," she admitted.

"Oh?" Draco said, trying to still his racing pulse as he mind flew with all the things he wished she would say. _We're separating, we're divorcing, I caught him cheating on me, I don't love him anymore, he's been dosing me with love potion, he used the Imperius Curse on me._ All would be wonderful responses, but the sensible side of Draco knew that any of those responses were unlikely. Hermione was too loyal, too loving, to leave Ron. He had to be content with being her friend, and eventually moving on.

Hermione took a deep breath, and then said in a rush. "He's been gambling."

"Well, a lot of people like a little flutter occasionally," Draco said noncommittally, "It's nothing to be ashamed of." He couldn't resist staring at Hermione – the sun gilded her riotous brown curls, her big brown eyes were tense with fear and stress, and she was biting her full lower lip lightly. She looked like the damsel in distress every man dreamed of saving, and he wished she were his. "I sometimes bet a sickle or two on the hippogriff races, they're fun to watch."

Hermione smiled, but her face didn't light up like normal. "You must really think I'm puritanical, Draco, but I promise you I'm not. I don't object to that kind of gambling. What Ron's been doing is… more serious than that."

Draco nodded. "How much has he lost? A few hundred galleons?" Hermione looked down. "Oh, Merlin. More than that? _Thousands_?"

"I've mortgaged our house," Hermione said tearfully.

More than anything, Draco wanted to roar and rage against Ron Weasley, the epic-level screw-up. He wanted to condemn Ron's uselessness as a father and a husband, and in fact as a human being. He wanted to tell Hermione that there were other options. Part of him even wanted to tell her not to worry, that he would give her as much money as she needed. But he couldn't say any of that – Hermione had a lot of loyalty, and she had a lot of pride, and so Draco didn't know what to say.

Hermione looked like she was about to cry, so Draco pulled into a huge hug. For once he didn't have to fight the urge to kiss her – she was too upset, and she needed a different type of comforting now.

After several minutes, Hermione pulled out of his arms. Her face was still wet and her eyes a little too bright, but she seemed much more composed. "Thanks," she said shakily. "I needed that." Hermione swallowed. "It's just… it's my fault."

"How the hell is it your fault?" Draco said roughly.

"Ron and I got into a rut," Hermione said softly, almost like she was speaking to herself. "I started acting more distant to him, distracted, wondering whether we were right for each other. And he didn't realise it was just… just… I don't know twenty-year-itch or something. He thought I didn't love him because he wasn't successful enough."

"Why would he think a stupid thing like that?" Draco wanted to know, intrigued by Ron's thought processes despite himself.

Hermione bit her lip again. "I kept telling him he should take his job more seriously. I kept saying Harry took it seriously – and then Rose left and I was more irritable towards him – and he thought he needed to prove he was successful to me."

"And to himself, knowing the Weasel," Draco said shrewdly. "Hasn't he always felt second-rate compared to Potter?" Hermione nodded. "So it comes down to his raging inferiority complex. Wonderful. And so, to prove he was successful, he decided to become a degenerate gambler?" Draco shut up then, realising what he'd said. Dammit, now Hermione was sure to yell at him.

To his surprise, she almost managed a smile. "I know. Ron just doesn't think sometimes."

"Maybe that's what attracted you two to each other," Draco said, mildly surprised that he could joke about Hermione's relationship with Ron without feeling his usual complex jealousy. "He doesn't think at all, you think twice as much as anyone else. It's either a match made in heaven, or somewhere much lower."

Hermione ignored his comment, and continued. "So, yes, he started gambling. And he won, for a while, but then I made him promise he'd stop. And he didn't. According to what he's told me he's been spending the majority of his time there."

"Let me guess… first you made him promise, _again_, that he'd stop gambling. Then you paid off all his debts," Draco speculated.

"Something like that," Hermione said miserably. "Only much less trusting. It's more correct to say I banned him from ever gambling again – I've got Harry watching him during work hours, and I time how long it takes him to get home from work."

Draco was impressed. "Damn, that's nasty, humiliating and cruel. Well done."

Hermione managed another shaky laugh. "I know, but what are my options? He's clearly addicted. I've organised GA – Gambler's Anonymous – meetings for him, and maybe that'll help. I don't know." She looked around the fancy café. "Draco, why don't they ever kick us out of here when we come in wearing normal clothes and ordering stuff that isn't on the menu?"

"You're a war hero," Draco promptly replied, snagging another chip. "And I'm the undeserving owner of an obscenely wealthy company. We could come in wearing rhinestone-spangled g-strings and they'd still serve us with every appearance of respect." He paused for a second to think about that. "You know, we should try that sometime. And when I say 'we', I really mean 'you'."

"No rhinestone-spangled g-strings for you?"

"They ride up on me," Draco replied gravely. "But you're trying to change the subject by making me picture you in rhinestone-spangled g-string."

"But you're the one who -" Hermione tried to object, but was cut off.

"Hush," Draco said commandingly. "So, about the Ron situation. Question number one: how bad is your marriage now? I'm asking as a friend."

Hermione shot him a glare. "Not bad enough that I'll run into an attractive friend's arms, if that's what you're asking. But quite bad enough to be going on with. What's question two?"

"Well, first I'd like to tell you I prefer to be called sexy instead of attractive," Draco said, trying to make Hermione laugh again.

"How do you know I'm talking about you?" Hermione countered. "Maybe I consider Hayley very attractive."

Draco winced and touched a hand to his head. "Now, see, so long as you talk to men about this kind of thing I don't see _how_ you could have marital problems. Try mentioning that to the Weasel and I'm absolutely certain you'll never have to do housework again, though you may have to describe your feelings for Hayley in detail." A smile twitched at the corner of Hermione's mouth. "Hah! That was definitely a smile. But back to my second question – how broke are you?"

"Very," Hermione admitted with a sigh. "So broke I'm considering going back to divorce work."

Draco frowned. In one of their many long conversations, he had become acquainted with Hermione's hatred for divorce work. "Ow, that sucks, poor you. Hayley never mentioned you were considering that."

Hermione flinched. "That may be because she doesn't know yet. Wait, how much time do you spend with Hayley? I thought you two weren't dating."

Draco shrugged. "We're not. She comes out drinking with me and the rest of St Mungos' staff sometimes. We're friends. Also, sometimes she comes over to hang out at the Manor – Scorp has a huge crush on her." Draco frowned. "So you really haven't told her? You should. She considers you two partners in your work – in fact, she practically considers you as her sister. I'd gotten the impression you felt the same."

"I do," said Hermione. "That's the thing, I really do consider her a partner and a sister. But nobody tells their little sister about their problems, not really – I've learnt that from the Weasleys. It's the older sibling's prerogative to pretend that their life is ridiculously perfect in order to impress the younger one."

"What a load of crap," Draco responded. "Tell her, you'll feel better for it." He paused. "Actually, I realise this is a hell of a non sequitur, but where are your kids if you and the Weasel are both working?"

"Our neighbourhood runs a child's group from nine to four," Hermione glanced at her watch reflexively. "For a very modest fee we can have Rose and Hugo grow up ridiculously fast behind our backs, while we focus on our careers. What about Scorpius?"

"Harold's in charge when I'm not there, he'd be insulted any other way. He considers himself Scorpius' mother figure, with all attendant responsibilities and rights. He used to sing Scorpius' lullabies until Scorp told me it was giving him nightmares." Hermione laughed. "Actually, I'd better get back to work. You know, sick and dying people are _so_ inconsiderate – it's like they don't even think about my needs. See you, 'Mione. And don't worry so much."

"Are you about to tell me it will all work out?" Hermione said sarcastically.

"Actually I was thinking you'll get wrinkles," Draco said. "And then they really won't let us in here… _particularly _wearing rhinestone g-strings."

"Bye, Draco… and thanks."

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Actually, almost as soon as Draco had left home that morning, Scorpius had evaded Harold and contacted Rose through the fire, wrangling an invite.

"Harold, pleeease?" he begged the elderly house elf. "It only costs a little, and Rose will be there. All the kids in Rose's family will be there! It's a learning opportunity."

"You is having to ask you father," Harold had replied pompously. "I is not making a decision like that, Master Scorpius."

"But I know Dad considers you almost like an extra parent," Scorpius had wheedled. It had only taken that. Puffed up with pride, Harold had given Scorpius the galleon the neighbourhood child's club demanded – well, in actual fact, it demanded a sickle, but Scorpius had fully earned his place in the Slytherin ranks and wasn't about to get a sickle when he could have far more.

"Scorpy!" Rose was disdainful. "You just can't live without me, can you?"

"Whatever," Scorpius said. By now he was used to Rose's constant insults, and even found them somewhat endearing. "Link owled me the other day and said to say hello to you. I told him about how your little brother nearly died – he thought it was _awesome_."

"That's very insensitive," Rose said accusingly. "And you haven't even _met_ Hugo, not properly. Seeing him when he's sort of dead doesn't count."

"So, introduce me," suggested Scorpius.

"He's in St Mungos."

"So? Your house isn't far, is it? We can floo from there, I know the right thing to say to get to the Healers' locker rooms." Scorpius smirked. The minders weren't watching them too closely because one little witch had just manifested her powers by turning another into a small cherry pie. The confusion was immense, with all the minders hastily conferring about the best spell to turn the child back.

Rose hesitated. It was tempting. "It sounds like a bad idea."

"Are you kidding?" said James, popping up behind them. "It's brilliant. Let's _go_."

"Was I talking to you?" Rose said. "Who even said you were in on this plan?"

"We're going too," said Albus firmly. "We haven't seen him without adults there since he got all injured. And it's our fault."

"No it's not," James said stubbornly. "It's his own stupid fault."

Albus turned to James with a glare. "You _told_ me you wanted to say sorry."

"Yeah! But that doesn't mean it's our fault! I'm not saying sorry if it means it's my fault!" As the two brothers bickered, Rose thought.

"Oh, okay," she said finally. "Grab Lily, and let's go."

"Can't," said Albus. "She's a bit busy being a pie at the moment. Tell you what, we'll tell her all about it later."

And so it was that while Draco and Hermione were discussing how their children were perfectly fine while they were at work, the children in question were sneaking through the storerooms in St Mungos. "Awesome," said James excitedly. "Look, this potion grows hair, it's for bald people." He poured some onto his hand and slapped it onto Albus' chin.

"Gerroffofme!" Albus yelled, causing the other to shush him quickly.

James stared at his brother's chin closely. "Nothing's happening," he said, disappointed. "There's still no…" There was a faint, organic noise, and James raised the hand he'd poured the goop onto. Roughly a metre of dark hair curled down towards the ground. "Wow."

Albus couldn't help laughing, then abruptly stopped as his chin began exhibiting the same symptoms. "Argh!"

"Shut up, the both of you," Rose ordered them. Quickly, she pulled her hair out of its pigtails. "Okay, one hair tie for each of it. Put the hair in a bun."

"But it's on my _hand_."

"Suck it up," Scorpius said laconically. "Hey, look, this one gives you wrinkles! I wonder why anyone would want wrinkles. Maybe if someone used a spell to take them away and it went horribly wrong?" Scorpius eyes suddenly gleamed as he came up with a brilliant idea. "Here, you put on this Healer's outfit, Albus, and we'll give you some wrinkles. You can be the Healer showing us around! Then we don't have to sneak our way up there!"

"That's a horrible plan," said Rose, but she didn't sound as if she was paying attention. "I'm gonna go get Hugo, you guys wait here."

The boys ignored her, too preoccupied with slathering Albus' face with the wrinkling potion. Within moments he looked like a sultana. By the time Rose got back with Hugo, nearly every bizarre appearance-changing potion had been used on one of them. James, for example, had close to seventy huge moles covering him, bright red lips, and massive spiky cheekbones. He also had breasts that he was looking down at with no small degree of fascination.

"You _guys_!" moaned Rose. "What are you doing? We're supposed to get back with this as a _secret_, there's no way we can do that now! Oh, by the way, Scorpy, this is my stupid little brother Hugo who fell off his broom. And Hugo, this is my idiotic schoolmate Scorpy who thought it was a good idea to give himself three extra fingers."

"Five, actually," said Scorpius cheerfully. "Guess where I put the other ones!"

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"…so Hayley, I really need you to be okay with this," Hermione paused, nervous. "I mean, I know you hate divorce work as much as I do, and if you really want to quit I'll find another assistant and get you a place with another specialist in Magical Law…" she stopped. Hayley was shaking her head.

"'Mione, don't be stupid," Hayley said flatly. "We're in this together! I'm not even going to say a word about your stupid-ass insecure husband -"

"That was three words," Hermione counted. "Possibly even four, it depends on if you hyphenate."

"Right. Well, I'm not going to say _another_ word, then. You're more then my boss, 'Mione, you're my best friend. Onwards to death or really depressing divorce stuff, huh?" Hayley smiled. "I'll organise it with the right people. You won't have to do a thing. Oh, look, an owl."

Hermione caught the letter as the owl dropped it in mid-air. She put her head in her hands for a brief moment, then pulled herself together with an audible sigh. "I've gotta go. According to Draco and someone named Connor, I've got two kids to ground for the foreseeable future." She scanned further. "And apparently, before I do that, I need to help remove fourteen of Hugo's noses."

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**If you really love Ron, then you should probably stay away from this story. In this story Ron's got old issues that mean he won't be the best father and will definitely not be the best husband. I'm trying not to indulge in Ron-bashing but I always thought he was quite screwed-up in the books and that wouldn't have just vanished.**

**Though of course, there's also the thought that if you love Ron, you shouldn't be reading a canon-compliant Dramione anyway, because Ron's clearly not going to be the most sympathetic character in it.**

**Again to anyone who read the stuff I wrote the other day – I am really, really sorry. I'd had a bad day and I was exhausted and I really did react very immaturely to some stuff. Sorry. Also, if you feel the need (as one _lovely_ anonymous reviewer did) to write in and tell me I'm pathetic and I should grow up, please don't. It really doesn't inspire me to be a better person.**


	15. Strange Discussions

A millisecond after Hermione opened the door, she tried to slam it shut. Astoria was too quick for her, though, and managed to wedge one of her expensive high-heels in the gap. "If you break my shoes, you're paying for them," Astoria said crossly. "And by the look of it you can't afford that."

"What do you mean?" Hermione nearly panicked. Draco wouldn't have told his ex-wife about her troubles, would he?

Astoria made a dismissive gesture. "This house, it's hardly a palace. Very… cottage-like. Let me in, now."

"Fine," Hermione said, annoyed. "But the house is supposed to be cottage-like, that's the style. It's homey."

"Whatever," Astoria said, sashaying in. With her neat chignon of dark hair and her tight emerald suit, she looked like a parody of a businesswoman – wearing the right clothes but appearing far too alluring to be a real worker, unless it was in the sex industry. "I'm sure you know what I'm here to talk to you about. After all, Draco must have mentioned our little deal -" she eyed Hermione's bewildered face. "Apparently not. He increased my divorce settlement, I didn't say a word to your husband about your mad passionate affair."

"There is no mad passionate affair," said Hermione frostily.

Astoria chuckled. "Well, I must admit I'm having trouble imagining someone applying the word _passionate_ to you – or to anyone you're seeing, to be honest – but you can't deny something happened. Something your husband would hate to hear about. Is he around, by the way?"

"No, he's visiting his parents with the kids," Hermione explained.

Astoria yawned elegantly. "Pity," she drawled. "Redheads can be so attractive, and revenge sex is highly enjoyable."

Hermione sighed. "What are you here for, Ms Greengrass? Are you just planning to subtly threaten me? I'm good at subtle, but not this good. Are you here to blackmail me for the kiss, or to just pretend you're planning to sleep with Ron?"

"Blackmail," said Astoria. "But not the kind you're thinking. All I want is for you to leave Draco alone." Astoria leaned forwards, her eyes intense. "See, now, I could offer to bribe you. Or I could threaten your husband, or you. But those are things that work on cowards, and you're a war hero so I'm assuming you're not a coward. So instead we're going to try this another way."

"Are you going to tell me I'm a slut, like you did Hayley?" Hermione said hotly. "Or that Draco belongs to you? Because neither is true."

"Draco doesn't belong to me now," Astoria acknowledged, "But I do believe we'll end up together, eventually. That's not what I'm going to tell you, though, because clearly it would have no effect. But I hope, with what Draco did for your son, that this will have an effect -" Astoria stared directly into Hermione's eyes, looking completely honest. This was _fun_. "_You will break his heart_. Oh, I'm sure you could continue this fling for a long time. Draco, you and I could all grow old and grey and he'll never realise that we're supposed to be together because he's be too busy sleeping with you. But you won't leave your husband, I'm sure of that – the fallout would be immense. You won't leave your husband, and _you will break his heart_."

"Don't ask me to believe that that means anything to you, because I won't," Hermione said, trying to cover the fact that she was shaken.

"Oh, it means something," Astoria gave her a serpentine smile. "Not that his heart will get broken, but that it belongs to someone besides me… I hate that. I must admit hearts getting broken really doesn't affect me too deeply, really. But talk like that does affect you, I can see. You're a romantic, Mrs Weasley, and a softhearted one at that. Could you live with yourself if you destroy Draco?"

Hermione steeled herself. "Draco doesn't love me and I do not love him," she said directly. "There is nothing going on between us., and there isn't going to be."

Astoria smirked. "Right. Come see me when you're willing to talk honestly… or if you're willing to consider the bribery option. Here's my address." Astoria couldn't help thinking that this was an incredible game, made more incredible by the fact so few of them recognised what they were doing in it. This was her move, and then Hermione would make her move – probably towards her dull little husband – and then Draco would make his move… what a game.

Hermione took the piece of paper by reflex, and glanced at it. There was no name on the card, just an address in perfectly even handwriting. "I won't be coming to see you, Ms Greengrass, I assure you."

"Keep the card anyway," Astoria said smoothly, rising and leaving the room. "Just in case."

And for reasons that Hermione wasn't sure of, she did.

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Christmas that year was a lot of fun. Traditionally, all members of the Weasley clan went to the Burrow for Christmas. It was big enough to hold all of them since Ron had paid for it to be rebuilt with his prize money. The children loved it, even though there was no snow – it really was an unseasonably warm year. Hermione ascribed it to global warming, a concept none of the Weasleys could understand.

Hermione had always loved spending Christmas with the Weasleys, but she also loved seeing Harry open his presents. While everyone else tore into them, exclaiming in delight and then throwing the gifts aside, Harry's childhood years had left him with a huge love of presents. He opened each one slowly, examined it carefully, read the cards and put the presents into neat piles – all with an expression of such gratitude and amazement on his face that it nearly rendered Hermione speechless. She glanced at Ginny to find her eyes slightly too wet, and grabbed her friend's hand and squeezed it. Then both of them couldn't help laughing as Ron said with great frustration, "Oh, hurry up, Harry, I want to open mine today too!"

Later all of the adults worked together to cast a charm that caused snow to fall just in the Weasleys backyard. Hermione initially worried about what the neighbouring muggles would think, but then realised they'd assume it was a snow machine. And anyway, the children loved it. Hermione was helping them build a snowman when Ron smacked her in the face with a snowball. Enlisting Harry's help, she managed to corner him and get him back. Ginny joined in defence of her brother, and the game grew – "Snowballed," as George remarked – until every single member of the family was running around building forts and planning massed attacks.

It was an incredible Christmas. Nevertheless, in the back of Hermione's mind Draco lurked, wickedly smiling at her.

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Harry Potter walked into his living room and stopped short. "Well, isn't this… coven-like." Hermione, Ginny and Hayley were sitting in a close circle, talking. Frankly, after dropping James, Albus and Lily off at the neighboorhood child watchers (despite the catastrophe that had occurred the other week), Harry had expected some one-on-one time with Ginny for his day off, but that seemed unlikely now.

"Oh, shut up," Ginny said good-naturedly. "We're trying to figure out ways to break Hermione's job change to the press. You know, to avoid the title 'War Hero Hermione Weasley Sells Out.' Which we know you're not doing," Ginny added hastily when Hermione glared at her. "But not everyone knows that, so we have to put a positive spin on it. Trust me, I do this kind of stuff for the Harpies all the time."

"Oh, yes," Hermione nodded blankly. She hated to admit it but she had a tendency to forget about Ginny's job. "And are you doing well this year?"

"We're coming top," said Ginny, exasperated. "Hermione, I know you don't like Quidditch, but _really_."

"Sorry," Hermione was shame-faced. "I've been busy lately, but I promise I'll keep up. I can't help it if I'm Quidditchally-challenged."

"Is that even a word?" Harry said, rolling his eyes. "You guys can't stay on topic at all. Isn't that just like women…"

"_What_ is just like women, Harry?" Hermione said, picking up a couch cushion in a threatening manner.

"Intelligent, thinking, working hard," Harry quickly continued. "Discussing a broad range of topics in your search for – ah! Doorbell! I'll get it!" Harry said, darting out of the room.

"Saved by the bell," Ginny called out cheerfully. "Who is it, sweetie?"

Harry entered, looking thrilled. "It's Teddy!"

"Hi," Teddy said, strolling after his godfather. Teddy had grown up to look a lot like Remus Lupin, though nobody was entirely sure if that was genetics, or if he'd picked up feature from old pictures and decided to model himself after his father. At present he also had long straight dark brown hair and violet eyes, creating a bizarre yet attractive look with his completely leather outfit. From his mother Teddy had gotten a tendency to experiment with his Metamorphmagus powers, which was why he was currently employed by the security department at the ministry in order to check the effectiveness of all their visual measures, a job he enjoyed greatly. "Hey, Aunt 'Mione, Aunt Ginny, Aunt… wait. You're not one of my aunts."

"You do know how to make a girl feel young," Hayley replied dryly. "No, I'm not an aunt. I'm Hayley, I work with Hermione." She got up to shake his hand, brushing back her hair with her other hand to reveal her face.

For Teddy, the room spun and then went perfectly still. He felt like he was staring at the sun. "Hayley," he murmured, his eyes tracing her high cheekbones and dark blue eyes, and eventually coming to rest on her bow-shaped lips. Teddy had never believed in love at first sight before, but he was damn well a believer now. Instead of shaking her hand, he raised it to his lips.

"Er," said Harry when the silence got too long and awkward. "Come on, Teddy, I'll show you to you room."

"It's always the same room," muttered Teddy, his eyes still fixed upon a confused Hayley. "I'm sure I can find it on my own."

"Then you'd better dump your stuff there, hadn't you," Harry said grimly, practically dragging his godson away. As soon as they were in Albus' room – which Teddy occupied whenever he came to stay – Harry slammed the door and whirled to stare at Teddy. "What _was_ that?" he wanted to know.

"More like _who _was that," Teddy said dazedly, staring at the door. "She's so beautiful."

Harry rubbed his eyes. "Teddy, she's attractive, certainly, but she's also a guest at the moment, and you just made her feel incredibly uncomfortable. Besides, aren't you with Victoire?"

"Sort of," Teddy admitted. "We kind of had a fight. Seems less important now, though." He smiled. "One quick letter and I'm free to ask out Hayley, right?"

"Teddy, you shouldn't treat Victoire this way -" Harry began, causing Teddy to finally look at him.

"Why?" he asked angrily. "Because she's a girl, or because she's your niece? Our fight was serious. Like, seriously serious. You shouldn't take her side just because you're related."

This had too much truth in it for Harry to honestly reply – if the girl had been nameless and faceless, Harry doubted he would have interfered. "Fine," he said, throwing up his hands. "But I doubt Hayley will say yes, from what I've heard she's involved with Draco Malfoy."

"Whatever," Teddy said, clearly not listening at all. He was staring towards the living room again, with a look of determination. "Do you think she likes roses?" He leapt up. "I'll go and ask her."

"Fine," Harry said again, thoroughly exasperated by now. "You do what you want. I'm only your godfather, after all."

Back in the living room Hayley felt bored and left out of the discussion, which had switched to the return of James, Albus and Rose to Hogwarts tomorrow. "It seems so _soon_," Hermione said miserably. "I mean, these weeks have gone so _fast_."

"It probably seemed faster because of the whole Hugo thing," Hayley chirped up helpfully. "How's he doing now that he's returned home, by the way?"

"Well, he's grounded, and not just for medical reasons," Hermione sighed, but then laughed. "Honestly, you should have seen how he looked with fifteen noses and five ears, it was ridiculous. He kept talking about it during the Christmas celebrations, too, I thought I was going to have to gag him – he was so _proud_ of being the only person there to have ever had five ears. George asked to borrow one."

"I've got photos of James and Albus," Ginny said brightly. "For future blackmail and present enjoyment. Technically they're both grounded too, except they're visiting Mum and Dad today and leaving tomorrow, so it hardly matters. Lily keeps telling them smugly that she'd never be as stupid as that."

"How's she feel after the pie incident?" Hermione wondered.

"Well, she wouldn't eat the apple pie I prepared for dessert last night, but otherwise she seems fine. Oh! Teddy," for Teddy had suddenly walked into the room. "Why aren't you with your grandmother?"

"Er, you know," he said vaguely. "She and her new boyfriend were being all kissy-kissy, so I thought I'd come see you guys."

"What about – oh, Victoire's in France for the Christmas holidays, I'd forgotten that." Ginny beamed at Hayley. "Oh, you should see them, Hayley, it's the cutest thing -"

"Yes, a man and his cat, it's very cute," Teddy interrupted hurriedly, to the utter confusion of Ginny. "Sometimes she digs her little claws into me and I can't help but smile anyway through the pain. Do you want me to walk you home, Hayley?"

Hayley frowned. "Well, I was planning on apparating, but okay." As they left the room, the other distinctly heard Hayley say. "But I don't understand – why is your cat holidaying in France?"

After a while of listening to Teddy's admittedly bizarre explanation of his cat's holiday in France, Hayley interrupted him. "Alright, whatever. What I want to know is, why are you walking me home? Are you in trouble or something?"

"Why would I come to you if I was in trouble?" Teddy said. He couldn't help smiling at her thoughtful face, reddened by the cold wind.

"Well," Hayley said pensively. "I am a bit closer to your age. I guess I just assumed you wanted me to bridge the generation gap or something. But if you're not in trouble, why are you walking a complete stranger home?"

"Er," said Teddy, completely thrown by Hayley's habit of straight-talking. "I wanted to ask you out."

Hayley halted for a second, and then clapped her hand over her mouth to try and stop her laughter. "For real?" she choked out.

"Yes," said Teddy, his pride wounded. "I don't see why you're surprised."

Hayley just looked at him. "I'm in my mid-twenties, and you're what? Eighteen?"

"Nineteen," said Teddy. "Actually, nearly twenty. And you can't be _that_ old, you don't look in your mid-twenties."

Hayley shrugged. "Mid-twenties, early twenties, what's the diff? You're a kid, Teddy. Crap, I'm sorry, that's offensive – and I would know – but it is true. I date men older than me, not younger."

"I know," Teddy said sulkily. "Harry told me, you dated Draco Malfoy, and he's like, ancient. But you know, I'm nineteen, I'm at my sexual peak -"

"Seriously? That's your argument? 'I'm at my sexual peak'? Hell of a pick-up line."

"It's not a pick-up line," Teddy said earnestly. "When I saw you I knew that we were right for each other. Totally right, and forever, and all that shit. You know, like The One and all. Age shouldn't matter."

Hayley stopped walking again, and stared deep into his eyes. "There's something else here," she said finally. "You know, most of what you're saying sounds like a cross between a teenage crush and what every woman dreams to hear. There's some other reason you're coming onto me."

Teddy hesitated for barely a moment, but Hayley picked up on it. "There's nothing else. I just know we're right for each other. One date -" he began with the automatic smugness of the attractive teenage boy.

"Oh look," said Hayley. "This is my apartment. Bye, Teddy. Sorry if I hurt your feelings, but no date will be taking place. Enjoy your holidays."

And with that she entered her apartment and slammed the door.

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As Hermione waved off her only daughter, she couldn't help thinking that it was probably a good thing Rose was going to Hogwarts. Life looked like it could be very rocky for the Weasleys for the next few months, especially if Astoria Greengrass got involved.


	16. Unpaid Debts

"HOW much more?" Draco couldn't help his voice rising as he stared at Philips, one of the Malfoy company's most trusted employees. Even after Draco being dandled on his knee as an infant, Philips creeped Draco out. Perhaps it was the way the wizard was so anonymous – everything about his appearance could be described as average. Or perhaps it was simply the man's virtual omniscience.

Philips sighed. "Master Malfoy, I have already told you the amount owing that has not been paid. The written report is on your desk. I haven't looked into why you are interested in Mr Weasley's gambling debts, I haven't even asked you why, but there it is."

"I know, and thank you," Draco said soberly. "I'm just checking into it for a friend." Draco hesitated. "His wife, as a matter of fact. So you say Mrs Weasley is unaware of these extra debts?"

"Well, the people Mr Weasley owes will contact her soon enough, the two weeks have almost passed. I surmise he was reluctant to inform her of them because it will necessitate the loss of their house. Is his wife aware that you are doing this favour for her?"

"Merlin, of course not," Draco muttered, rubbing his eyes. "All right, Philips, could you please do one more thing for me?"

"I live to serve, Master Malfoy," said Philips, almost too blandly.

Draco frowned. "Fine. Then take money out of my business accounts and pay off the debts, anonymously. Hermione will never have to know." Philips nodded and rose to his feet. "By the way, Philips, do you have a first name?"

"No," said Philips. "Of course not. That would be unprofessional, as would a sense of humour or any other human characteristics. Have a good day, Master Malfoy."

And as Draco was still trying to work out whether Philips was taking the piss or not, the man was gone.

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"HOW much more?" Hermione couldn't help her voice rising as she stared at her husband. "We'll have to sell the house. Oh God, oh God…"

"See?" Ron said miserably. "This is why I didn't tell you how much I really owed. You were stressed enough when I rounded it down. Anyway, I've been talking to Harry and Ginny about it, and they think maybe we can get a loan from Gringotts."

Hermione took a deep breath. "You lied to me again."

"I'm sorry, 'Mione," said Ron, and he did look sorry. "I just wasn't thinking straight then, and I'm so sorry." He sighed. "I have been thinking a lot lately, I know. Starting to gamble, lying to you, breaking my promises, picking fights with you -"

"That was the worst one," Hermione said, her eyes tearing up. "Hearing you say all those horrible things. That I was _holding you back_, and I _wasn't enough for you -_"

Ron looked grey. "Please, don't repeat them. I feel like punching myself in the nose whenever I think about it. You know you're not holding me back, Hermione, and you're absolutely enough for me – you're the best thing in my life. I think I was self-destructing or something, trying to completely wreck my life, and I'm so sorry -"

"Forget it," Hermione interrupted. "I shouldn't have brought it up. That's in the past, let's worry about these new debts. Do you owe the casino, or do you owe people?"

"People," Ron replied. Slumped in his armchair, he looked older than his thirty-seven years. "Two. But I have to pay through the casino."

"I'll go talk to the casino," Hermione said decidedly. "Maybe I can convince them to give us some more time. You start talking about a loan with the goblins tomorrow. We've already mortgaged the house, so I don't know how likely they are to give us one, but we have to try. Have you told anyone apart from Harry and your sister?"

"No, because I know anyone else in my family would try and just give us the money," said Ron. Hermione opened her mouth to ask if that was such a bad thing, and then realised it would be another blow to Ron's low self-confidence. Instead she just nodded. She had lived through more painful things than this, and so she would live through this.

"Mum? Dad?" Hugo came out of his room, yawning. "What's going on?"

"You should be in bed," scolded Hermione. "Actually, I've got to go out at the moment for work, but Dad will be here if you need anything, okay sweetie?"

"You don't have to act like I'm _sick_, Mum," said Hugo. "I'm okay now, the Healers said so. I can get myself stuff if I need it."

Hermione smiled at him, smoothing his hair away from his face. She planted a kiss on his forehead. "Okay, honey. Night. Sweet dreams."

"I'll tell you a story," Ron said, leading Hugo back to his room. "D'you want to hear the one about Uncle Harry and the giant snake again?"

The moment they were out of sight, Hermione turned on the spot, picturing the street outside the casino in her head. The moment she arrived she cursed herself for not remembering how rainy it had been that day, and the fact that she was wearing ug-boots. She was soaked through in seconds and knew she must appear ridiculous.

Nevertheless, Hermione steeled herself to enter the gaudily lit-up establishment. She didn't seriously think they were going to allow her to put off paying for much longer, but she had to at least try. After all, all of the alternatives made her break out in a cold sweat.

As soon as passed through the entrance a massive horn sounded, and confetti sprayed out in huge arcs, not only covering Hermione but nearly blinding her. Roughly a dozen waitress bunnies surrounded Hermione and started doing the can-can. Another bunny stood in front of her and ostentatiously unrolled a piece of parchment. "You, our lucky five hundredth customer tonight, have just become the lucky fourteenth contestant in our fourth annual poker championships!" she paused for a round of applause by the other bunnies. "Our casino wants to reward you for -"

"You get more than five hundred people every night?" Hermione coughed out some sequins, appalled. "Urgh!"

"Wait, guys," said the bunny in front of her, peering closely. "It's Harry Potter's assistant. The one who paid Ron's debts. You're not here to gamble, are you?"

"No," Hermione said, still coughing. "Could you call off the sequin and confetti fountains?"

"Oh, right, sure," the blonde said distractedly. "Jack! Cut the fountains!" she called out. Then she smiled at Hermione. "Right. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to talk about the rest of Ron's debts," Hermione said firmly.

A small furrow appeared in the bunny's forehead. "Okay, how about you come to the desk? You guys, get ready to blast the next person, this one's not interested." The blonde led Hermione towards the desk. "What did you want to talk about, exactly?"

"About me paying off the rest of Ron's debts."

The blonde frowned. "See, that's where I get confused. I'm pretty sure you already paid them all, but I'll go look it up anyway." Hermione heard the horns start up again as the bunny went into the back room. She came out as the new lucky winner was having the parchment read to him. "They are all paid."

"No, they aren't," Hermione said, confused. "I only paid some of them, didn't I?"

"Yes," the bunny replied. "But then someone – I assumed it was you or Ron – paid off the rest anonymously."

Hermione stared at the bunny. "_All_ of them? But… who would do that?"

"I have no idea," the bunny said patiently. "I'm just a waitress, really. If you want a martini I can get you one, but I really can't give you a list of people who like to spend large amounts of money for other people's benefit. I also can't give a rousing speech on inter-species unity or play Quidditch upside-down. So… do you want a martini?"

"No," Hermione said slowly, "But I think I know who paid off the debt. Bye." Hermione spun on the spot again. This time when she opened her eyes she was standing on the stoop of a house she knew as well as her own. She knocked loudly.

There was the sound of footsteps, and then Ginny Weasley opened the door. "'Mione?" she said, covering a yawn. "What is it? Isn't it a bit late for a social call?"

"It's only eleven," Hermione said, "And this is important. I need to talk to you. And Harry too."

"Okay," Ginny said, her eyes half-closing. "I'll go wake him up." She stumbled off without inviting Hermione in, so Hermione walked in anyway. She still didn't know what to say – thanks or how could you? The motive was undeniably pure, and the easy generosity was very Harry, and it wasn't like he needed the money – but still… Hermione's pride was stung, and if hers was stung she suspected Ron's would be pulverised. Not that Harry would understand that – he couldn't understand Ron's issues with being poor. For that matter, neither could Ginny, despite growing up in the same house.

Hermione sat down in the lounge room and waited. Soon Ginny staggered into the room, followed by Harry who had his glasses askew and his hair standing up even more than usual. "What is it, Hermione?" said Harry grumpily.

"Ron's debts," Hermione said, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

Ginny began to look marginally more awake. "Oh, he finally told you about those, did he? We've been nagging him to tell you since he told us."

"You shouldn't have done what you did -"

"We know we should have told you -" Harry started to say, misunderstanding her.

"Harry, I don't know how we can pay you back," Hermione cut in. "You shouldn't have paid our debts for us. Thank you for the thought, but Ron and I can handle it."

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, communicating with their eyes. Finally Harry looked towards Hermione. "We didn't," he said straightforwardly. "We discussed the option but we were going to see if Ron could get the Gringotts loan first. I know that he hates charity."

"Even from family," Ginny added. "I don't know who did it, 'Mione, but it wasn't us."

Hermione sat back, confused. "But it has to be. Ron said he only told you. You're lying to me."

"No, we're not," Ginny looked hurt. "We wouldn't do that! It really is someone else -"

Hermione looked at Ginny. "If you had paid the debts," she said slowly. "Hypothetically speaking, would you tell me?" Ginny and Harry both fell silent. "Right. You wouldn't because you'd know that if you did I'd pay it back somehow…" there was a short pause. Hermione rose as if sleepwalking. "Thank you for everything." She said quietly, and walked to the door.

"No," Ginny called after her. "Really, we didn't -" but her only response was the sound of a door closing.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other. "You weren't lying, were you?" Ginny wanted to know. "You would tell me if you'd done something like that… of course you would. And I don't have that kind of money by myself." Ginny grabbed Harry's hand. "Come on, let's go back to bed. We can worry about this in the morning."

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The next day Hermione found herself staring dubiously at Malfoy Manor. "Are you sure this is necessary?"

Draco shrugged. "Listen, our normal café is closed. The Manor has lots of food. Why not eat here?"

"Why not eat anywhere else?" Hermione pointed out.

"Well, I can give you one good reason," Draco smirked. "Harold wants to meet you. He wants to make sure that you are fit to take care of Scorp whenever he visits Rose. Harold's wanted to meet you since the barbecue, actually, but I've been putting him off by saying you're too busy. But you're not too busy now…"

"Oh, all right," Hermione gave in. "But if you serve me oysters and caviar and… and other ridiculously expensive things, I'll be very annoyed."

"There are better reasons to feed someone oysters," Draco said wickedly, and then added. "According to Luna, when she came to visit me in hospital, oysters are excellent and keeping away the Chililivers."

"You made that word up," accused Hermione as Draco opened the door and motioned for her to enter.

Draco shrugged again negligently. "Perhaps. She certainly said something like that, anyway, with one of her own made up words in place of mine. Would you care to come in?"

Soon they were seated next to each other at the Malfoy's huge dining table. "Isn't there a smaller table somewhere?" Hermione said, dismayed.

Draco rolled his eyes. "This is the traditional one. And Harold likes tradition, so we eat here to please him. Well, _I_ eat here to please him now that Scorp is back at Hogwarts. I miss that kid."

"Yeah, I know how that feels," Hermione said. "Speaking of Scorpius, have you seen his mother recently?"

"Astoria?" Draco asked, looking puzzled. "Not since I was in hospital. Why?"

"No reason," Hermione said quickly. "I just wondered."

"Oh, okay. Well, I haven't seen her. Actually, I wanted to ask how your personal dramas were going," at Hermione's blank look, he added, "You know, the debts and the mortgage and so on. All the gambling stuff?" One of the house-elves marched into the room, carrying a huge plate of sandwiches. "Oh, thanks, Dilby." Dilby bowed and exited the room. Draco bit into one of the sandwiches, and then laughed. "Wow, I'm not the only one missing Scorp. The house-elves must be too – this is his favourite type of sandwich, chocolate spread. Prepare to rot your teeth."

Hermione smiled and grabbed one. "Well, I paid off most of Ron's debts, I told you that, right?"

"You said all," Draco corrected, taking another bite out of the sandwich. "Oh, Harold! I wanted to introduce you to Mrs Hermione Weasley. Hermione, this is Harold, our head house-elf and adopted member of the family."

Harold's chest puffed up with pride. "Thank you, Master Malfoy, though I is not as high as all that. I am most happy to meet you, Mrs Weaselly. Do you like the sandwiches?" He added, eying her beadily.

"Absolutely," Hermione said, taking a huge bite out of one to prove it. Harold nodded, apparently satisfied with this response.

"So does she pass your test?" Draco enquired sweetly.

Harold shot him a glare. "I is not testing any of my betters, Master Malfoy. But if I was so insolent as to test Mrs Weaselly, I am sure she would be passing all of them." He bowed towards Hermione. "It was nice to meet you, Mrs Weaselly. I must go watch the others, they is lazy if I don't watch them." He left the room backwards, still bowing. Hermione reflected that there was absolutely no servility in his bow - it seemed more like a sign of decorum than anything else.

"Right," said Draco. "You have now gained Harold's sacred trust. Do not abuse it. Where were we?"

"I was saying how I'd paid off some of the debts, and you said you thought it was all. It turns out, though, that I was wrong when I told you'd I'd paid them all off," Hermione said glumly. "There were some that Ron hadn't told me about."

"Oh. So did you end up paying those off too?" Draco asked, staring fixedly at the pile of sandwiches.

"No," said Hermione. "Harry and Ginny had already paid them."

"Really?" Draco managed.

"Oh, of course," Hermione sighed. "On the one side, it's the most generous thing on earth and I'm so grateful to them. They won't even admit they did it because then we'd pay them back. But on the other side, it's making Ron feel so _bad_."

"I'd think he'd be grateful Potter is still watching out for him," remarked Draco.

"Ron doesn't think like that. All he thinks is that he's a failure, that he's failed to look after us."

"Well," said Draco. "He has, hasn't he?"

Hermione flushed. "How dare you," she said shakily. "Ron's a good man -"

"The Weasel is a gambling addict who got his job by favouritism, says the wrong thing all the time, and hurt Hugo's feelings to the point where Hugo tried to fly past the ozone layer to impress him," Draco said, realising immediately that he's said absolutely the wrong thing but enjoying it far too much to stop. "He _is_ a failure, Hermione, he's failed at everything, even marriage -" By this time they'd somehow both risen to their feet and were standing face to face.

"No, he hasn't!" Hermione objected. "So long as he's got me his marriage isn't a failure!"

"Right!" yelled Draco, finally really angry at her. "So long as he's got you, and he can be smug and happy – even if you're living in a cardboard box selling your body to passing tramps! The Weasel is an idiot, Hermione, and you're an idiot for staying with him-"

SLAP. Hermione's hand arced almost gracefully around to impact his face hard. Draco's hand flew up to cover the bright handprint for a second, and then Hermione started to apologise. "Oh, God, Draco, I'm -"

Before she could finish, he grabbed both her wrists and kissed her roughly. Hermione kissed him back with equal force, moving her lips against his. After a minute she pulled back, panting, but then she bit his bottom lip and started attacking his mouth again.

Hermione wasn't sure how long it was until he let go of her wrists, but she noticed it when his hands started moving lower. Moaning breathlessly, she steered him backwards against the wall and slid her hands up the front of his shirt, feeling his chest. For a second he paused to rip off his shirt so she could have better access. Then he spun them around so she was trapped between him and the wall, a situation Hermione had no problems with. She wrapped her legs around him. Draco put his hands on her hips and then moved them slowly up, pulling her shirt with them until it came fully off.

"Oh, please," Hermione said desperately, her head arching backwards as she tried to contain. "Touch me… please…"

Oddly enough it seemed to be the sound of her voice that shocked Draco back to reality. "Oh, Merlin, 'Mione," he said, just as breathless as her. "What are we doing?" he untangled her legs from his waist and set her back down on the ground. "Hermione -"

Hermione flushed, also coming back to reality. "Isn't this what you wanted?" she snapped, searching for her top.

"Maybe," Draco said evenly. "But not like this. You would hate yourself for doing this to him, and you'd hate me for allowing it. You know that. And the thing is, I wouldn't like for you to hate yourself, but I couldn't stand it if you hated me."

Hermione stared at him for a second. How had she thought he only wanted an affair? It was in his eyes, all through his eyes. Astoria had been right and she was breaking his heart. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I won't come near you again."

"Wait," Draco said commandingly as she turned to leave. When she spun around to look at him, he offered her a crooked grin. "You forgot your top." He held it up, but when she grabbed onto it he didn't let go. "Of course you're going to come near me again, 'Mione," he insisted. "We're friends. We just won't see each other anywhere alone, okay? We'll talk in public, or with other people there… we can still be friends."

"I'm breaking your heart," said Hermione, realising even as she said it how arrogant that sounded. "Sorry, that sounds ridiculous. But the way you look at me, the way you see me – you care more about me than I do about you. I love _Ron_."

"I know you honestly believe that -" Draco started, but then changed tacks. "I'm a big boy, Hermione, I can take care of myself. I promise you, it takes more than this to break my heart. Come on, say we can still be friends."

For once his face was free of arrogance, sarcasm, or humour. Hermione couldn't resist his look of hope. "All right," she said. "All right, we're still friends. We'll always be friends." She grabbed her top from his unresisting hand and pulled it on while she walked quickly away.

Hermione Granger, know-it-all extraordinaire, realised she didn't know a damn thing anymore.

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**Lying is also a symptom of the addict. I know this from personal experience.**

**Let me know if you like where the story's going… if you don't let me know what you like and don't like, Hermione could end up running off with Kingsley Shacklebot to be his sex slave. Hell, **_**Draco**_** could end up running off with Kingsley Shacklebot to be his sex slave…**

**What do you think of that as a possible sequel? :D**


	17. Empty Fun

Hayley was starting to get very sick of Teddy. He was always hanging around, either staring at her with big hopeful eyes or attempting to seduce her in a very teenage way. On the one side, it was highly flattering to be pursued so relentlessly, but on the other side she wondered if he hadn't crossed the line into stalking.

On the bright side, her apartment smelt _beautiful_ now. Teddy had taken to hand delivering a dozen roses every day, and Hayley had taken to cheerfully chucking the love note into the bin and then chopping the flowers into pot pourri. Fragrance ah la unrequited love, as she thought of it.

It wasn't that she wasn't sympathetic to Teddy; it was just that it was beginning to get very wearing on her nerves. Which was why Hayley had come up with a brilliant new plan to convince him that they were never going to happen – dating someone else. Jacob, to be specific, even though Hayley had to admit he was absolutely not her type – kind, gentlemanly and conventionally handsome, ick. Hayley squirted herself with some perfume and smiled proudly at her reflection. Tonight, she was going to have a good time.

As soon as she thought it, the doorbell rang, and Hayley raced to answer. "You're early -" she started to say flirtatiously, and then readjusted. "Oh, Teddy. You again. I was expecting someone else."

Teddy bristled. "Someone else? Like a date someone else?"

Hayley rolled her eyes. "Teddy, we're not dating, we're never going to be dating; I'm allowed to date other people -"

"But I love you," Teddy said, turning huge wounded eyes towards her. Hayley flinched.

"Listen, you _don't_. You just think -"

Teddy shook his head wildly. "No, I _do_. I _do_ love you. We're meant for each other." He stared into her eyes, and for a moment his striking good looks made Hayley catch her breath and wonder if he was right.

"No," she said firmly, looking away from him. "No, we're not meant for each other. Not at all. It's not the age thing, Teddy – well, it kind of is. The last date I went on was with your uncle!"

"Malfoy isn't my uncle, he's my mother's cousin, that's totally different," said Teddy pigheadedly. "I never even met him."

"Besides the point. I don't date teenagers, Teddy. I'm guessing your last girlfriend was a schoolgirl, and I think your next one will be too."

"No she won't, she'll be a stunning twenty-something secretary," Teddy replied. "Hayley, you know you feel _something_ for me. I can see it in your eyes."

"You see what you want to see," Hayley felt very tired suddenly. "And there's Jacob. This conversation is over."

Jacob walked up to them. He was holding a dozen roses, and gave them to Hayley with a kiss on the cheek. "Hi, Hayley. Who's your friend?"

"Not a friend," Hayley said brightly. "One of Hermione's nephews. He came to ask for help with his homework. He was just leaving."

"Really? Anyway, it's nice to meet you. I'm Jacob," Jacob said with his usual good manners. "Are you at college? You look much too old to still be at Hogwarts."

"I am," Teddy glared at Hayley, and then shifted the glare to Jacob. "Hayley just likes to _tease _me. We're very close," he added, in case Jacob hadn't got the implication. "Very, _very_ close."

Jacob looked at Hayley. "Am I intruding?"

"Yes," Teddy said at the same moment as Hayley yelped "No!" Grabbing Jacob's arm, Hayley glowered at Teddy. "You're not interrupting anything, Jacob," she hissed. "Can we just go already?"

"Aren't you going to put the roses in water?" Teddy asked sardonically. "That is, if you have any vases left. Hayley gets a lot of roses," he said in a nasty aside to the confused Jacob.

"Actually," Hayley retorted. "I have no roses right now, just a lot of cut up rose petals. They do make the place smell lovely, though. I'll go put these in water. You wait here, Jacob, and Teddy you can come with me so we can _talk_." The moment Hayley and Teddy were alone, she whirled to face him. "What the hell _was_ that?"

"What? The date with loverboy not going as planned?" Teddy said snidely, crossing his arms.

"Fuck off, Teddy," Hayley said, breathing heavily with fury. "This is my life! Don't keep trying to take control like this. I _don't_ want you. I am _not_ your true love etcetera etcetera."

"Prove it," ordered Teddy.

Hayley felt like stamping her feet. "I _am_ proving it! I'm going on a date with a perfectly nice guy! Leave me alone!"

"Perfectly nice?" scoffed Teddy. "But can he make you feel like this?" He grabbed her and kissed her. Hayley had to admit it was a very good kiss for the fraction of a second before she kneed him in the stomach.

"Teddy, I don't want you," Hayley said as he made gargling sounds. "I _don't_. Yeah, I have a soft spot for the confused, obsessive bad boys – at least, that's the kind of guy I _used_ to have a thing for when I was seventeen. But I'm _not_ seventeen anymore, and you are _not_ the right person for me. Just let it go."

"No," Teddy said, equally stubborn. "I won't."

"Fine, then," Hayley said, her anger growing again. "I _will_ prove it." She marched to the door and swung it open to reveal Jacob still standing there waiting patiently.

"Are we still going out?" Jacob said with great serenity.

"No," Hayley said through gritted teeth, shoving Teddy out through the front door. He sneered at her, clearly thinking she had given in. Jacob looked a little upset for a second, making Hayley realise he really did like her and it was probably very unfair of her to use him like this. Still, when had any guy ever complained? "No, we're not going out. We're staying in." Hayley grabbed the front of his jacket and had pulled him inside before either man could react. Teddy started banging on the door.

"Ignore him," Hayley said, starting work on a surprised Jacob's shirt buttons.

"Um, okay," said Jacob. Hayley felt a pang as she looked up into his ridiculously honest and sweet face. Why couldn't she fall for a guy like this? A good guy. Instead, Hayley had never been in love, and all of her infatuations were hopelessly inappropriate; like a single father fourteen years older than her, and now apparently a teenage stalker with a crush – not that she would ever admit it to him. Even in school she'd always been attracted to the wrong people – her handsome Herbology professor, a gay friend, and every guy with a leather jacket and a smirk. She was a disturbed screw-up, a beautiful and intelligent one, but still a disturbed screw-up.

Hayley concentrated on undoing the buttons. She heard Teddy yell again, still whacking the door, but then Jacob cast a quick Silencing spell and the sounds stopped. Hayley deliberately blocked out everything except what she was doing – sex would cure her. Sex would make her feel good again, inside and out. Sex would prove to that idiot outside that she wasn't his, and never would be.

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Hermione couldn't help sighing as she opened the door to her house. It was already nighttime – Hugo was probably in bed, but Ron would still be awake. Things were still awkward between them. Hermione was actually beginning to feel like things would never stop being awkward.

It wasn't that she didn't understand why Ron had gotten into gambling so fast. In her more honest moments, Hermione had to admit that she sometimes missed the excitement and adventure of the past. After the war had finished, they had been itchy and restless, but they'd had each other for excitement. Back when they still excited each other. And then Hermione had been setting up her career, and Ron had been rounding up bad guys. Then there was the drama of the wedding, the passion of the honeymoon, the exhilaration at the birth of Rose and then Hugo. And after that was the difficulty of raising two small children.

That's when Hermione's career had stabilised, and become much simpler. There was still a thrill in each case, but it was routine now, she expected it. And Ron had gotten promoted slightly so that he did much more deskwork and much less chasing and catching. The children had grown to the point where they could take care of themselves, most of the time. They no longer wanted their parents to play every game with them, go everywhere with them. For a brief while last year, Hermione had been excited by something else, ridiculously excited, but that had turned out so badly she still felt broken when she thought about it.

And that's when Hermione had realised their marriage had no excitement, not anymore. Of course, if she'd thought about it, she would have realised things had to settle down eventually. But she could never have predicted that she and Ron would settle down into a rut so bad – as soon as she'd started to behave slightly different with him, he'd responded by becoming someone she didn't really like. Without the wild passion they'd once had, without the kids to spend all their time worrying about, and without jobs that seriously interested them, Ron and Hermione had gotten bored. It was as simple as that.

And that's when Hermione had realised she and Ron had very little in common. He loved the television – magical channels or muggle channels, he didn't mind. He enjoyed good home-cooked meals, preferably English. He loved to watch sports. He had absolutely no interest in politics, no interest in literature or learning. Hermione loved books and good wine and travel – Ron refused to go further away than Dover, convinced that England contained anything he could possibly want. He'd even once confided to her that the best thing about the trip to Egypt when he was young had been bragging about his father's windfall – the actual holiday had been too hot, with too many flies, and lots of people only spoke their own silly languages. Hermione dreamed of going to Egypt and seeing the history, both muggle and wizarding, but she knew he would never go with her.

Oh, Hermione still loved Ron, and was sure he still loved her, but it was undeniable that the attraction that drew them towards each other had faded somewhat. Without it, both of them had felt the need for excitement and distraction – but Hermione had stifled hers apart from being slightly more passive-aggressive, whereas Ron had gone out and bet far more than they could afford just for the thrill of it.

Hermione smiled as she walked into the living room. Ron was sitting in the dark, watching the TV. He turned towards her as she entered and smiled too. "Hugo's asleep," he said quietly. "I've just been sitting up waiting for you."

"Sorry," Hermione felt guilty.

"No, no!" Ron objected quickly. "I've been watching this fascinating muggle movie. Muggles are very stupid, I must say."

"Hey!" Hermione said with mock-annoyance.

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Ron gestured at the screen. "Those three big blokes robbed a bank, and the policemen – I said that right, didn't I? – anyway, the policemen can't find them."

"Why is that stupid?"

"Well," Ron pointed out in a reasonable tone of voice. "How hard can it be to find three men wearing stockings over their faces? Honestly!"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, and then saw his teeth flash in a cheeky grin. "You idiot," she scolded jokingly. "Look how long it took the wizarding world to round up a bunch of people who had huge snake tattoos on their arms. Honestly, it's been twenty years and there's still one or two out there!"

"Not my fault," Ron said meekly. "I just do the paperwork. Want to come watch with me, 'Mione?"

"Sure," Hermione said, walking towards the other chair. She wasn't expecting Ron to grab her hips as she walked past and neatly yank her into his lap. "Hey!"

"Come on, 'Mione, sharing is caring!" Ron mockingly repeated one of the Starter School's worst mottoes. "We're saving the planet by not wasting a couch. That would be wasteful."

Hermione grinned, twisting to look at her husband, and feeling the familiar pang of affection mixed with pain as she saw his face. "You just want me at your mercy."

"Yes," said Ron gravely. "I'm very pirate-like, like that. I will have my booty, wench!" Ron had recently gotten interested in all pirate related television shows.

Hermione found herself laughing. She realised with a shock how long it had been since Ron had made her laugh – since he had been this carefree, happy person. "I had rather die than surrender my chastity!" Hermione said, raising a hand dramatically to her forehead. "Even as I swoon at your manliness!" She faked a melodramatic faint, crumpling to the floor to lie perfectly still.

"I will still have you!" Pirate Ron declared, landing on top of her with a thump. He tried to tickle her and Hermione wriggled away, giggling. Soon it had turned into a fully-fledged tickling war, with both struggling to gain an advantage.

"Mum? Dad?" Hugo said. "What are you doing? I could hear you in my room."

"Weren't you asleep?" accused Ron, still trying to catch his breath. He and Hermione had both collapsed on the floor, defeated. Hermione was still laughing helplessly, though.

"I woke up," replied Hugo simply. "What are you doing?"

"Er," said Ron desperately, looking at his still-giggling wife for help. They had definitely lost any pretence of maturity, here. "Er… the guy on TV did something funny, and your Mum laughed so hard she fell to the floor, pulling me with her." Hermione let out an even louder peal of laughter.

"Right," said Hugo, looking far from convinced. "I'm going back to bed. Stop being weird."

"Night," said Ron helplessly. As soon as Hugo left, he whacked Hermione on the arm. "Stop laughing so hard. Our son thinks we're weird."

"We're not weird," said Hermione dreamily. "We're happy. If only we could be like this all the time." There was something in Ron's face, a sort of terror, that made Hermione sit up. Her happiness evaporated. "What is it?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he said hurriedly, giving her a quick kiss. "I'm tired, I'll head to bed."

Hermione fell back down with a sigh. Sometimes she felt like there were two Rons. There was the one she loved – he'd held her hand so she could squeeze his while she was giving birth, but he'd squeezed harder and nearly broken a bone because he was more scared then she was. He loved the kids more than anything, and would never dream of doing anything to hurt them – that Ron was a wonderful parent, and though the kids got annoyed with him sometimes they did that with Hermione too. He was impulsive and caring and fun. He'd been the second boy to kiss her, and the first one to make love to her, and definitely the first one she'd ever fallen in love with. She'd dreamed of his kisses, once, of him saying he loved her. He tickled her and joked with her and filled her with nostalgia for when they'd been so crazily in love nothing else had mattered.

Then there was the Ron she – well, she didn't hate that Ron. She pitied him, a little, and was very fond of him, even though she knew he could be offensive and stupid. He did stupid things like start gambling because he was bored, and then get addicted to it. He lied to her when it was incredibly obvious there was something wrong. He picked a fight just so he could let his anger out on someone. He couldn't tell when the children were upset and needed him, which made small issues get bigger very fast – Hugo's fall wasn't in a million years Ron's fault, but Hermione couldn't help wishing he'd somehow fixed it before it happened. He didn't believe in housework or cooking, he believed they just somehow happened. If she'd thought about it before now Hermione would have considered that Ron a stranger – but now she wondered if it was a part of Ron she'd never even seen. She'd been so crazy about him she couldn't see straight, once. Now she sometimes saw him like she saw Harry, just as an incredibly good friend and not as something more. Now she sometimes saw him as a sexist, scatterbrained, irresponsible, insulting teenage boy who'd never quite grown up. She still loved both Rons, even that one, but sometimes she could see why no one else had ever thought of him as marriage-material.

Because he might be a good person – a great person, even – and he might be the man she'd loved for more than twenty years, but he was a useless husband.

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"Hey, Hayley," Draco greeted his friend as the house-elves ushered her into his study. He put his book down and studied her face. "What's the matter?"

"I had sex with Jacob last night," Hayley said in the voice of one delivering funeral rites.

Draco stared at her. "If you're thinking of telling me his sausage is too sizzly, don't. I don't want to know."

"No," Hayley said glumly. "He has sausage. He has plenty of sausage, and he uses his sausage quite masterfully. There was this one thing he did -"

"Please shut up," Draco pleaded, unable to even manage a smirk. "I work with him. He's my friend. Please… the mental images…"

Hayley rolled her eyes. "Oh, okay. No more about Jacob's prowess. Why are the house-elves answering the door now? Don't you normally do that yourself?"

"Astoria," Draco said briefly. "I need someone who can keep her out. I'm considering an electric fence. What's up?"

"I had _sex_ with him," she repeated, as if he hadn't understood the first time.

Draco smirked at her, now fully recovered from his bout of disgust. "Don't tell me. You were serious about the nun thing, and now you think you have sullied yourself. You must bathe in the Seas of Purity and run around London five times naked to remove the taint and you want me to supply the purple paint -"

"Hah bloody hah," Hayley said grouchily. "He's crazy about me."

"Poor bugger," Draco said sympathetically.

Hayley shot him a glare. "Not. Helping. Draco. I'm here for advice, understand?"

"Why aren't you seeing Hermione about this, then?"

"She married her childhood sweetheart, what she knows about dating is miniscule," Hayley snapped. "Just listen, will you? Teddy – who's nineteen – thinks we're true love and should get married, and that I'm betraying him by seeing Jacob. Jacob thinks we're hitting it off and our relationship is really going some place, and he's thrilled. And I'm about to hurt Jacob because I don't feel anything for him besides mild liking."

"I thought you said he had good sausage?" said Draco, struggling to keep track.

"Yes, but no sizzle," Hayley explained. "No spark. Sometimes that's just as important."

"And there's spark with the teenager?" Draco asked, curious. Hayley had heard the expression that the eyes were the window to the soul, but now she couldn't help thinking Draco's were more like a mirror to the soul. You didn't see his soul but you saw your own, with all your dirty little secrets in plain view.

Hayley shrugged, uncomfortable. "Sometimes. A semi-spark, anyway. But I think that's just because he reminds me of when I was young."

"As opposed to the greybeard you are now," Draco mentioned dryly.

"I shaved that off," Hayley said. "Draco, what do I do?"

Draco blinked. "You just told me what you're doing. You're breaking it off with Jacob -"

"But he's the only thing that's making stalker-boy Teddy think I'm not going to fall into his arms!" Hayley wailed. "I can't dump him, because Teddy will get his hopes up again and I've ran out of fancy pot pourri dishes!"

"Hayley," Draco replied. "You're my friend, but so is Jacob. Listen closely: if you give him hope when there is none, you're going to hurt him even more eventually. Don't manipulate him to solve your problem with Teddy. And being firm will probably eventually solve the problem with Teddy. Unless the semi-spark is an actual spark, in which case you could always just go for it. And if you want more fancy dishes the Manor has plenty, feel free to borrow them." He smiled, thrilled to have kept track.

"You're hopeless," Hayley said. "Just hopeless. That's the worst advice I ever heard and I'm just going to have to follow it anyway because I have no better ideas. And if I'm still being stalked when I'm forty, I'll blame you."

"Don't be stupid, he won't stalk you for that long," Draco said comfortingly. "If there's even a semi-spark you'll have given in by then and will have lots of tiny stalker babies. You can buy the binoculars in bulk."

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**Yes, no Dramione stuff in this chapter. I wanted to show that Ron and Hermione do have something there – twenty-seven years of being best friends can't just be negated by a marriage going bad. And you never know, they could fix the marriage. I haven't decided. They're both good people, and they are very bonded – two kids, all the same friends, same house, a life built together.**

**Also, you may have noticed a B-plot: be afraid, be very afraid.**

**As always, please review! Feedback is the best thing any writer can get!**


	18. Losing Valuables

It was almost a month before Hermione discovered the reason for Ron's look of fear. To tell the truth, she'd almost disregarded it by then as a trick of the light. The room had been dark, she must have misread. Hermione comforted herself with the thought that at least it wasn't gambling, since she and Harry were both watching him closely.

Hermione had been very busy, anyway. She went to lunch with Draco nearly every day, ignoring the zapping feeling every time he touched her. When Hayley could, she accompanied them, but she never seemed to notice their behaviour with each other. Actually, Hayley had been acting very oddly, very preoccupied and confused, but every time Hermione mentioned it Hayley assured her everything was normal.

Harry and Ginny also wanted Hermione's help. Teddy was still staying with them, but he was hardly ever there and wouldn't tell them where he went. They were worried he'd gotten into something bad and wanted Hermione's advice about how to tackle him – they could hardly disturb Andromeda on her honeymoon, and in her job Hermione dealt with considerably more teens than they did.

The weather had finally caught up to the fact it was winter, and the temperature turned freezing overnight. Hermione found it was more of an effort doing everything when it was so cold, and even heating charms seemed ineffective against the icy weather.

Hermione also found herself going out with Draco and Hugo on their Saturday excursions. Draco was filled with ideas for new places to go – there seemed to be an endless line of people who owed him special favours, as well. Once, when Hermione had seen Draco lift Hugo up and throw him into the air – not so easy a task nowadays as he was growing in leaps and bounds – she'd felt her throat contract for no obvious reason. There was something so poignant about Draco and Hugo's relationship. Ron had been so distracted and moody for so long that Hugo had begun to see Draco as a father figure, and Draco saving his life so dramatically had only cemented the bond. Hugo never stopped telling stories about what Draco said, or what Draco had done, and he lit up with pride every time he mentioned something Draco had said about him.

Work was also difficult, with Hayley so distracted. Now that she worked as a divorce lawyer yet again, Hermione had started to hate her job. It was hard, and unsatisfying, and nearly everybody was just looking to wring as many galleons as possible from their erstwhile partner. Even custody cases couldn't make her feel better, since even when the outcome was good the kid always ended up screwed-up.

However, on the wintry Tuesday evening she found out the cause of Ron's fear, Hermione realised that she'd really been very lucky before.

Hermione apparated to her usual spot next to the front door, tired after yet another long hard day. She nearly went inside, but then a flash of colour to her left caught her eye. "Hello?" she called out, not really expecting an answer.

She was surprised when she got one. A tiny plump wizard with glasses and an extravagant moustache climbed up to stand on the step next to her. "Mrs Weasley, I presume?" he said coldly. He looked her up and down.

"Yes," Hermione said shortly, refusing to be intimidated by someone who barely came up to her elbow. "Who are you?"

"I'm Mr Kingswood."

"And why are you here?" Hermione said haughtily.

The horrible little man sneered at her. "Actually, I've come to assess the value of your house. It's being repossessed."

Hermione felt a horrible shiver go through her. "What? No, you can't do that. We don't owe any money. I paid off all Ron's debts," she added, guessing that this was Mr Kingswood's reasoning.

"Well," said Mr Kingswood, flicking through papers on his little clipboard. "I don't agree, actually. Certainly you paid off all his old debts. The debts he's been amassing over the past month, on the other hand…"

"That can't be right," said Hermione, frantic. "We've been watching him all the time, he hasn't gone to that blasted casino once."

Mr Kingswood looked at her like she was an idiot. "He doesn't have to. There are some things you can gamble on by owl. Hippogriff races are the most popular, and it appears Mr Weasley has lost a large amount on these."

"He lied to me," Hermione said in a dazed voice. She felt like she was in shock.

For the first time, Mr Kingswood looked a bit sorry for her. "A lot of gamblers are like that, aren't they now. Can't give an honest answer if you ask 'em the time of day. From the sounds of it your husband has something of a gambling habit. They just can't help 'emselves, sometimes." He straightened up, losing the sympathetic look. "Nevertheless, whatever problems he has, your house will be repossessed."

"Oh," said Hermione faintly. "Oh." She gathered herself up and took a deep breath. "All right, then, you'd better come in. We'll talk."

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"Hermione," Ron said. He was very pale. "Hermione, I didn't mean to, I just couldn't help it -"

Hermione threw another plate at him. It made a very satisfying crashing noise when it the wall besides his head. "Our _house_, Ron! Our _house!_ You bastard!"

"I never meant for this to happen -"

CRASH. "SURE YOU DIDN'T! YOU DIDN'T MEAN FOR US TO BE HOMELESS AND BROKE, I'M SURE! BUT NOW WE ARE! AND WHO'S GOING TO TELL HUGO? AND WHAT ABOUT ROSE, YOU IDIOT? ARE YOU GOING TO TELL HER? ARE YOU?"

"'Mione," Ron moaned, looking wretched. "I'm so sorry. It's like I went mad, I couldn't stop, and after the first time I thought I had to win it back, all the money, I'm so sorry, 'Mione -"

Hermione sent two plates spinning discus-style at him. This was wasteful and immature, but damn it was rewarding. "YOU LYING BASTARD SCUM, THIS IS OUR _HOME_!"

"I know, I know – Ow!"

"WHERE ARE WE GOING TO LIVE NOW?" Hermione yelled. She looked around, and found that there were no more ceramic plates left. She'd have to buy some more, not that that slight expenditure would even be noticeable when they owed so much. Hermione dropped her head into her hands, the adrenaline wearing off. "Where are we going to live now?" she repeated, and started sobbing.

Ron tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed him off. "Harry and Ginny said we can stay with them, they've got enough space if Hugo shares a room with Teddy. He'll love that -"

"How could you do this, Ron?" Hermione choked. "How could you?"

"I don't know," Ron said. He looked ancient and wounded, even destroyed. "I've been looking into how to get better. I was trying to stop gambling. Did you know it's an actual real mental illness? I found a book, I think I'll be able to stop – I'm trying, anyway -"

"Not that," Hermione said. She raised her head and her face was set and grim as she stared at him. "Not that, I know all that. Maybe you couldn't control the gambling. But you could control what you did about it. If you'd told me – told me how hard it was – the hippogriff races on TV – I could have helped. I could have stopped you. You _lied_ to me, Ron. Again! Lately all you do is lie. I can't deal with it anymore." She looked him straight in the eyes. "Hugo and I will go to Harry and Ginny's. You find somewhere else to go, Ron."

"Where?"

"I don't care," Hermione felt dead inside. "Just nowhere near us, and nowhere near a casino. Try your parents; they'll put you up."

Tears started flowing down Ron's face. Despite everything, it hurt Hermione to see him that wrecked. "Is this… are you… are you leaving me?"

Hermione felt torn. "No… no… I don't think so. I just need some time to think, without you being there. Please, Ron. Just give me this time."

Ron grabbed her hand. "And then we'll go back to normal?"

Hermione wrenched it away. "Normal? What normal? There is no normal, after this. You've been my closest friend for more than a quarter of a century, and I could never have predicted this. You've broken my heart a lot of times and in a lot of different ways -" _Running after him in the forest, watching him stare at another woman on our honeymoon, listening to him say I wasn't enough for him, seeing him wound around Lavender, hearing him say he had never realised I was a girl… _"- but this is the first time I've ever thought you might not be able to fix it. That's because this is the first time you've hurt our children. There's no going back to normal after this."

"Can we try?" Ron pleaded.

Hermione hated him and loved him at the same time. And she hated herself for wishing that her husband would just disappear. "Maybe… I don't know… give me time, Ron. Just go, please. _Go_," she repeated when he didn't move.

"Bye," he whispered, and then Hermione's husband disappeared.

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**Short chapter, I know. I'm hoping the drama will make up for it – I thought it was about time I abandoned touchy-feely angst and aimed for stuff happening. Hope you like it. The next couple of chapters should be a bit lighter, and probably feature our least-favourite ex-Lady Malfoy...**

**Of course, even a temporary separation between Ron and Hermione can open the door for a hot blonde… please review and tell me whether you like my work, or how much of an idiot Ron is, or anything like that. Reviwers make my day!**


	19. Confidence

"Isn't it about time you went home?" Hayley said with a sigh as she came out of her room. She'd spent hours in there, like she did most days now. Damn Teddy and his stupid emotional blackmail. He would wait outside her house wearing very flimsy clothes and shivering until Hayley let him in. Then he would sit on her couch for hours and hours, while Hayley locked herself in her room and read a book or watched TV or even did work.

Essentially, they were spending twelve hours a day in the same apartment, without exchanging more than a couple of words. Teddy had clearly decided that he could wear her down better without talking, and had instead turned his eyes large and brown so he could give her the puppy-dog stare.

Hayley wanted him dead.

But she still hadn't sunk to the point of contacting Harry and telling him about Teddy's actions, even though he was threatening suicide by pneumonia every day. Hayley couldn't bring herself to open that can of worms – maybe Harry would say she'd led his godson on. Maybe Hermione would be disgusted at Hayley's cruelty to him. Teddy would think she was a telltale and a bitch – which didn't matter to her _at all_, but still.

Hayley sat down heavily next to Teddy. "What are you thinking? That I'll just fall into your arms if you annoy me long enough?"

"Maybe," said Teddy.

"That I'll spontaneously realise you're the One?"

"Maybe."

"Well, I won't. If I have a One he's the one I'd be One-ing with and you aren't that one. Or the One. You know what I mean."

"Maybe."

"Oh, grow some tonsils," snapped Hayley. "This whole 'Man of Mystery must not speak' thing is getting very old. Saying 'Maybe' all the time is on par with playing the repeating game. What are you, twelve?"

"What are you, twelve?" he mimicked, fixing his big brown eyes on her.

"Great," Hayley said grumpily. "Now I'm giving the juvenile delinquent ideas."

"Great," he parroted, grinning at her. "Now I'm giving the juvenile delinquent ideas."

Hayley stood up, seriously annoyed. "Oh, go experiment with drugs or vandalism or something. Leave me alone." She stalked back to her room, very aware she was still being watched by his goddamn puppy eyes. Bastard.

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"Uh," Hayley said, unable to avoid staring. "'Mione, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" parried Hermione. "I'm drinking. On a Monday morning. In my office. I cancelled all the clients today, by the way. After all, it's not like the money will make a difference! Ha!"

"Ooookay," Hayley said slowly. "What have you done with my boss, you evil body snatcher?"

"I like to think I'm more misunderstood than evil," Hermione replied, throwing back a thing of fire-whisky so quickly that even Hayley was impressed. "And everyone knows the zombies will attack long before the body snatchers do. It will end in an epic fight between them but the rabbits will win."

"Right," Hayley said. "Are we going to talk about your sudden descent into madness?"

"No, we're not. We're going to drink about my sudden descent into madness. Do you know any drinking songs? I used to know drinking songs but I forgot. Ron lost the house."

"_What_?"

Hermione giggled, refilling her drink. "He just… lost it. Just like that! He can't tell a good hippogriff from a gooder hippogriff, apparently. Or should that be a gooderer hippogriff?" Hermione gulped and then said in a small voice. "I'm staying at the Potters." With the same abruptness she returned to her good humour. "Well, you know, the Daily Prophet used to say we were a ménage a trios. According to them I'm Harry's girlfriend and Ginny's Harry's girlfriend, but Ginny's _my_ girlfriend too, and I think they thought Ron just watched because otherwise that would be incest. But now Harry and Ginny are married and we have no time for threesomes anymore."

Hayley squinted at her boss. "You _are_ kidding, right?"

"I'm so sorry," Hermione exclaimed. "Do you want to be part of our fake media threesome too? But then it would be a foursome. What's that called? Ménage a lot?"

"No, I mean about the house," Hayley said frantically. "Did you really lose your house?"

"No," said Hermione, waggling her finger in Hayley's face. "I never lose _anything_ because I'm so organised. Ron's very disorganised though and the people took our house. Hugo and Rose think it's magical termites and we're getting a new house coz I'm scared of them. Don't tell 'em, will you?" Hermione said in a loud whisper.

"I won't, 'Mione, I swear," Hayley assured her. "So… Ron started gambling again?"

"Uh-huh," said Hermione crossly. "Only apparently he never stopped. Damn it, this whisky is wearing off. Do a Cheering Charm on me, that helps. And sing a drinking song! I'm trying to remember this one from college about the college next to us… OHHH,

THE GIRLS AT LONDIES STUDY LAWS

BUT THEY'RE BETTER ON THEIR BACKS

THEY'RE SUCH A BUNCH OF TALENTED WHORES

AND THEY HAVE SUCH GIANT RACKS." Hermione bawled. She took a deep breath and continued.

"IT'S A SHAME THE LONDIES GUYS

ONLY LIKE SCREWING THE DEAD

BECAUSE NO MATTER HOW SMALL THE SIZE

THOSE GIRLS GIVE WONDERFUL HEAD!" Hermione stopped, gasping. "Come on! Why aren't you drinking, or singing, or doing the Cheering Charm? Cheer me! I want cheer! How's yer love life, Hay?"

"Terrible," said Hayley, making an executive decision and casting a Cheering Charm on her employer. From the sound of it Hermione needed it. After a second of consideration, she did a cheering charm on herself and downed a considerable amount of fire-whisky straight from the bottle. She damn well needed it, too.

"More detail!" Hermione demanded petulantly, like a small child. "More! More! More! More -"

"Fine," said Hayley, relaxing and giggling as the alcohol hit her. "A teenager is stalking me and I had wild sex to make him jealous and I really hurt the guy I had wild sex with."

"How?" Hermione asked seriously, snatching the bottle off her. "Did you use whips?"

Hayley giggled. "Not really. Next time…" she shook herself. "But there is no next time because I hurt him and broke up with him because even though his sausage is good there's no sizzle and now I'm still being stalked by your stupid fake nephew."

Hermione frowned, and took another deep drink from the bottle. "I don't know any fake nephews… oh! Wait!" Hermione made a brilliant deductive leap. "You're being stalked by Rubeus Hagrid Junior?"

"No!" Hayley yelped.

"Good," Hermione said serenely, passing the bottle back to Hayley. "Because I think his sausage might be too much like a devon sausage."

"Ew! 'Mione! No! Shut up! I'm not being stalked by him, I'm being stalked by Teddy!" Hayley howled.

Hermione paused in the act of grabbing the bottle back. "What happened to Victoire?"

"His _cat_?"

"He named his _cat_ after his girlfriend?" Hermione looked shocked. "Is that sweet or just weird? I didn't know he had a cat! You know, I had a cat once -"

"What? A _girlfriend_? That rat bastard!"

"…his name was Crookshanks, and he had this adorable…"

"He couldn't even have the decency to be a _single_ stalker!" Hayley wailed, irrationally feeling betrayed. "Bastard!"

"…used to curl up with me and keep me warm…"

"Bastard! Bastard! I hate that bastard!"

"…and he was friends with the Grim, but then we found out it was Harry's godfather… and now Harry's Teddy's godfather!" Hermione smiled, a little drunkenly. "What were we saying about Teddy, again? Something about sausages?"

"Why is it that as soon as I bring sausages into a conversation, nobody can let it go?" Hayley said grumpily. "I'm all serious-important-talky-stuff and they're all sausage-sausage-sausage."

"Sorry. We weren't talking about sausages?" Suddenly Hermione's face crumpled. "I'm homeless and you're being stalked! Our lives suck! Let's sing a drinking song!"

"No, no," Hayley said hurriedly, not sure if she could take another drinking song. "Let's not. Let's talk about how much our lives suck – it can be a competition. I'll go first: I've never been truly in love."

"I'm homeless, I win."

"Oh, shut up. I'm being stalked."

"My husband's a gambling addict!"

"I don't have a husband!" Hayley riposted.

"My kid nearly died!" Hermione yelled.

"I have no kids!"

"Exactly! No childbirth for _you_!"

"_You _have a career," Hayley pointed out. "I'm a secretary!"

"A career in helping people divorce," Hermione argued. "That sucks!"

"_I haven't had a drink in five minutes_!" Hayley yelled in response. "Give me the damn bottle already, bitch."

"Fine," Hermione said, passing it over. "But my life sucks more. I'm officially separated!"

"Really?" Hayley said, momentarily distracted. "I'm so sorry." Then she remembered the competition. "I do filing all day!"

"I don't have any chocolate!"

"I'm lonely!"

"I'm in love with Draco!" Hermione blurted out, then clapped a hand over her mouth.

"I'm… wait, _what_?" Hayley took a hefty swig. "_You're_ in _love_ with _Draco_?"

"Maybe not love," Hermione pondered, "Lust. I am deeply in lust with Draco. And I like him, but then he saved Hugo's life so I kind of have to like him – I have to like him for that, but I can't mention it, because Ron gets annoyed that someone else saved Hugo's life. But I want Draco. And he wants me too. And I can't have sex with him because I'm _married_!"

"Separated," Hayley pointed out, going straight to the relevant point.

"I still can't do that to Ron,' Hermione moaned. "It would kill him! Give me back my whisky, I need it more than you do!"

"Do not," Hayley said, jerking it back automatically. "I have a monosyllabic teenage boy in my flat, staring at me all the time!"

Hermione sat in silence for a moment. "Our lives are screwed-up, Hay," she finally concluded. "Completely messed-up, weird, lousy, fucked-up."

"Yours isn't," Hayley disputed. "You can leave your screw-up of a husband and run into the arms of a rich hot guy."

"No, I can't," Hermione said, a tear running down her face. She blamed it on the alcohol. "I have children. And Ron, Ron needs me. I'm even less able to leave him now, because I said for better or worse and I've done the better part and now I've got to do the worse part. He needs me."

"What Ron needs is a good slap," was Hayley's opinion.

"I can't just abandon him," Another tear ran down Hermione's face and she dashed it off in annoyance. "Them, I can't just abandon them. Ron's the love of my life, we're supposed to be together forever. We have children. I can't let our relationship fail."

It was Hayley's personal belief that Hermione repeating these reasons constantly was not making them any more believable. She rolled her eyes. "'Mione, a relationship _ending_ is not the same thing as it _failing_."

"What do you mean? Of course it is!"

"No," Hayley disagreed. "A relation ending can be a good thing. You can look back and remember good times and part in niceness and meet up sometimes and be nostalgic together. That's a _successful_ relationship, even if it's over." Hayley looked moved by her own words, and took another drink to cover it up before returning the bottle to her employer. "A relationship fails when you look back and all you have is hate and regret. A relationship fails when you stay in it when you should leave, until there's only emptiness and bitterness. My parents had that."

"I don't agree," Hermione said stubbornly. "If a marriage ends, it fails. I'm not going to let ours fail. This is a rough spot, and it'll pass."

"Do you think the gambling caused the rough spot?" Hayley wondered. "Or did the rough spot cause the gambling?"

Hermione shrugged, drinking some more whisky. "Something else started the rough spot… something Ron doesn't know about… but rough spot or no rough spot, we'll figure it out. Don't look at me like that, Hay. I'm not giving up on my marriage. Twenty years -"

"Is a long time," interrupted Hayley. "And the next twenty years will be even longer if you don't love him anymore. If you love Draco."

"I won't leave him," Hermione repeated. "I loved him, he's the love of my life, we can get that back. We _can_. Draco is… a mistake. One I won't be repeating." She paused, remembering the second kiss, and the third. "Well, won't be repeating _again_, anyway."

There was a long pause. Hayley looked at her friend. "We're both so lost, Hermione. So lost." There was another, shorter, pause. "I'd say the competition's a tie. Give me back the whisky, now, please."

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"Why didn't you tell me? About Victoire?" Hayley said, boiling mad and still a little hungover from the day before. "You claim this huge great love, this destined path, and you _lied_ to me -"

"No I didn't," Teddy's eyes turned a dark grey without him thinking about it. "I mean, I lied about having a cat, but that's it. I love you. Victoire and I are over, I sent her a letter when she got back in England, we're not together -"

"Did you break up with her because of me?" Hayley demanded. Part of her wanted the answer to be no, but a small romantic part of her hoped it would be yes. This really was the screwiest sort-of-relationship she'd ever been in – and she wasn't even in it!

"Yes," Teddy admitted. "And no. Could you let me in, already? It's freezing out here."

"No," Hayley growled, slamming the door in his face. She went and sat on her couch. Several minutes later she stalked back to the door and swung it open again. Teddy hadn't moved at all. "Fine, come in, you idiot. We'll talk."

"About Victoire?" Teddy looked relieved. "We're _over,_ Hayley, I told you that."

"Not about Victoire," Hayley said grimly, sitting back down on the couch. He joined her, looking confused. "About us. About why you're so keen on the idea that fate and destiny have handpicked me for you."

Teddy flushed a little, and couldn't meet her eyes. "It's not that I'm keen on it, Hayley, I just know I love you."

"Right," said Hayley, suddenly annoyed with how ridiculous he was being. "Do I like my job?" Teddy sat speechless. "Am I an only child? What's my star sign? You don't _know_ me, Teddy. Not at all. All you know is what I look like."

"You're beautiful," Teddy said, not realising this was the wrong thing to say.

"_Exactly_," hissed Hayley. "You think I'm beautiful, and you're attracted to me, but that's not a good enough reason to be this obsessed! You don't even seem to want me as much as you want the idea that you're destined for someone. You want some kind of love at first sight, a fairytale." Hayley hesitated. "So do I. I want that to be true. I want a fairytale. And that's why I can't trust anything I feel for you."

Teddy perked up, having only heard what he wanted to. "So you do feel something? That we're meant for each other?"

"No," said Hayley. "Yes. I don't know. I've never been in love, and I'm starting to wonder if wanting love so badly is making me feel things that aren't there." Hayley glanced at him, and then looked away again. "I'm lonely, and you're saying all these things about destiny and never being alone again, and I can't trust myself not to fall for the promise rather than the person. And I certainly can't trust you." Hayley got up. "I'm going to my room. You go back to the Potters', Ginny and Harry will be wondering where you are again."

Teddy opened his mouth to say something, but Hayley was already gone. After a few minutes, he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. Then he opened it and stared at the picture inside, feeling alone and confused.

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**Ah, drunkenness. An incredibly enjoyable hobby. I should know, it's three in the morning and I just drunkenly got back from a small house party which sported not only sex but also alcohol and eventually policemen. Nobody should miss out on the college experience.**


	20. Your Move

_Dear Dad,_

_Hope you're okay and everything after all the near-death stuff. Rose says her stinky little brother was attacked by magical termites who ate one of his arms. Is that true? Is he going to get a magical arm?_

_You might be getting a letter from a teacher or something. The other day I lost Slytherin like forty points when me and my friends stole a potion that makes people giddy and broke into the kitchens and put it in the pumpkin soup. It was awesome! Everybody was stumbling around all drunk acting, but Professor Longbottom got annoyed and says I have to write to you and tell you so you can yell at me too or he'll write._

_The potion-stealing was Alby's idea – his dad told him how to get into the kitchens, and how to get into the Chamber of Secrets, and a whole bunch of other stuff. You never told me any of that stuff. Alby's cool even though he's a Griffindor, so he hangs out with us sometimes. Link keeps saying they're wrecking our reputation but then Rose smiles at him and he goes all googly and soppy, it's really gross. I can't imagine why he likes Rose like that, she's such a know-it-all._

_From Scorpius_

_PS: Tell Mum hi when you see her and thanks for the hair gel she sent. I gave it to Rose – guys shouldn't use hair gel, that's just gross._

Draco reached the end of the letter and laughed. In his own Hogwarts days he'd used so much hair gel he half-suspected a killing curse would've bounced off it. Of course, he also wouldn't have spent time with Griffindors, or done pranks that didn't hurt someone, preferably the Pothead. He was definitely going to have to ask Hugo about the magical termites, though.

A loud _crack _behind him made Draco jump. "Merlin, Harold, I told you to stop doing that years ago!"

"My apologies, master, for entering your room unasked," said Harold without the slightest trace of remorse. "I thought you would have outgrown the teenage need for privacy."

Draco flushed. "That only happened once, Harold, but it does sort of illustrate my point about knocking as opposed to just apparating in. What's up?"

"Mistress Astoria is at the door again," Harold said, his snout wrinkling. He had hated Astoria with a passion ever since he'd witnessed Draco bribing her to attend one of Scorpius' piano recitals. "I is trying to follow my orders to get rid of her, Master Draco, but she is… persistent."

"I'll bet," Draco replied, remembering. "Let her in, please. Maybe after I talk to her she'll realise that I… well… _don't _want to talk to her."

Harold bowed very slightly. "As you is wishing, master. I don't suppose I could leave her in the snow for a couple of hours first, though?"

"No, just let her in, Harold," Draco said, though he did entertain the idea for a moment. "Thanks."

"As you wish," Harold said grudgingly. "And I shall remember in future that no matter how old you are you still need your _private time_."

Draco opened his mouth to protest but Harold apparated away before he could. He returned his gaze to the letter, rereading it. Draco knew it was pointless, but he kept trying to read between the lines – was his son really happy? Was he okay? How was he doing in his classes? Sometimes Draco wished he could just spy on Scorpius and know everything that happened to him – it was so _hard_ being apart from his boy.

A knock came at the door. Draco sighed. "Come in, Astoria," he called out, spinning in his chair so the faced her.

Astoria stepped into the room, her face flushed from the cold. "You've been ignoring me. _Avoiding _me."

"You blackmailed me," Draco said coolly.

Astoria pouted. "But I've always done things like that! It's not exactly blackmail, it's just… assurance."

Draco sighed again, unable to help it. "We were _married_ when I used to accept your little blackmail-bribery-extortion games. I went along with them because it was sort of your money too, even though it exceeded the monthly amount you're allotted. I don't understand why money always has to be a part of the games you play – Merlin, I don't even understand why you play these games!"

"You used to like the games I played," Astoria said, smiling wickedly. "You could learn to like them again."

"No, I couldn't," Draco said flatly. "Astoria, I don't love you. And more than that, I don't _want_ you. You gave me Scorpius and I will owe you for the rest of my life for that, but we aren't together. This is real – we're divorced. I thought you understood that. Keep me out of your damn games, and keep Hermione out of them too."

Astoria's smile had completely disappeared by now. "Ah, your dream girl. I wondered when we'd get round to the subject of her," she said with soft malice. "That's what bothers you, isn't it? Not the money, but that I know about her. You didn't have to go along with the blackmail."

"Habit," Draco said wearily. "I'm used to writing a damn cheque to get you out of my hair for a while. Normally you go to Paris with the money. Why are you still here?"

"I can't leave my husband to recuperate by himself," Astoria said in a voice that was so innocent and saccharine that it made Draco want to throw up. "Well, ex-husband. Plus, I want to see how this turns out."

"How what turns out? Us? Astoria, I told you -"

Astoria waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, we're over. For now, anyway. But for years you've been an important part of my life, and – no, who am I kidding? I just want to see the train wreck your illicit passion's going to cause. I've been watching it. It's an incredible game board, just look at the pieces." Astoria started counting things off on her fingers. "First, we have the secretary. The guy I hired says she comes here frequently, must have a crush on you. Going to be _pissed_ when she finds out you prefer her older, uglier friend. Second, there's the friend herself, who's in wuv with her hubby but cheating on him anyway. Third, there's the hubby – wild card. Who knows who he wants? If it were the secretary it would make a neat little square of unrequited love, wouldn't it? And lastly, there's you."

"I'm not lastly," said Draco tightly. "Lastly, _you_. Who's watching me far too closely, and yet still doesn't understand any of this. Everything you said there is wrong. Hayley doesn't want me, Hermione's not sleeping with me, and I know what the Weasel wants – his wife. You're the last player in this sick little story you're fabricating. There's no game, Astoria, nothing's happening or going to happen. But if there is a game you're a small part in it, Astoria, and I really doubt you're there just to enjoy other people's pain."

Astoria faked a yawn. "Whatever. Maybe I'm just in this for when she absolutely breaks your little heart and you coming running back to me for comfort."

"That will _never_ happen," Draco growled. "_Never_."

"Never say never," Astoria purred. "I'm going to go now, darling, but remember what I said. You know where I'm at. This is hugely entertaining for me, darling, do keep it up – but just remember that I'm there for you after the train wreck."

"So long as I come with another wedding ring?" Draco said sarcastically. Astoria just smirked sexily and left the room. Draco sat and, after a moment's thought, opened the last drawer in his desk. If anyone could drive a man to drink it was his ex-wife.

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"I assume this visit confuses you," Astoria remarked. "I have to be honest, I never saw myself dropping round for tea with Ron Weasley either."

"It absolutely confuses me," Ron said bluntly. He looked like a wreck – pasty skin, dark circles under his eyes, and an unshaved beard. "Why the hell is Draco Malfoy's wife visiting me at my parents' house?"

Astoria ignored the question. "Living in your parents house – for a high-ranking auror that's a long way to fall."

"Hermione and I are planning to buy a new house, one without a termite problem," Ron added several more spoonfuls of sugar to his tea. "And I've never been that high-ranking."

Astoria leaned forwards, showing off her cleavage. She'd found it to be a valuable tool in attracting men's attention. "Bothers you, huh? That you never got higher? Is that why she left you?"

Ron's hand jerked, spilling sugar. "She didn't leave me," he said, managing to keep his voice calm. "I told you -"

"Termites, right, of course," Astoria smiled, catlike. "Just like Draco says the reason he divorced me is that we had a loveless marriage. Do you want to know the real reason for both things happening?"

"Go on," said Ron, wishing he had a drink. Astoria was beautiful, but not in a way he'd encountered before – she was an incredible diamond, lovely but also hard and sharp. He could see how a man might fall in love with her, but also why he would divorce her and run for the hills.

Astoria faked a little sniffle. "They're in love with each other, of course."

"_What_?" Ron said, astonishment jerking him out of his calm. He couldn't help laughing. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Hermione and the ferret? No way."

"Well, he's definitely in love with her," Astoria said with faux thoughtfulness. "He talks about her all the time. They planned to meet up on the platform, did you know that?"

"No," Ron said slowly. "I didn't. But I don't believe you, because Hermione would never do that."

"Are you sure?" Astoria took a sip of her tea. "And the two of you are blissfully married, of course. You haven't been in a rut or anything."

"A bit of one," Ron admitted. "But that started ages before she met -" he stopped.

"Ages before they met on the platform," Astoria completed. "My, what a coincidence. Your marriage starts to fall apart and your wife organises a very attractive man to come and befriend your children. They'd take the transition quite well, now, wouldn't they?" Astoria smiled, on a roll. "And of course he just _happens_ to be divorced. I even heard Scorpius befriended Rose – now that's planning ahead."

Astoria hadn't lied to Draco when she'd said she was enjoying this. Watching pain and suspicion and confusion flicker in his face was exhilarating, she thought dreamily. She'd always loved playing her games with people but she'd never played one so incredibly complex before – nor one pieces she could so easily move. Several words from her and now Ron would run off to his little wife, terrified of losing her… while Hermione was no doubt still thinking of what Astoria had said to her the other week… Astoria loved that feeling, of successfully manipulating events to turn out just the way she wanted.

Draco was wrong. She wasn't a small part of this game. Astoria Greengrass was no pawn. She was the queen. "Thank you for your time, Mr Weasley. I just hated to think of you being as unprepared as I was." She smiled at him, trying to look weak instead of triumphant. Oh, she hoped this game would continue. Astoria had a lot of moves she hadn't made yet, and she wanted the chance to play every one of them before she won her husband back.

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"Hermione," Harry said nervously. "I… er… need to talk to you. About Ron."

"Yes?" Hermione replied, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. Harry and Ginny had been tiptoeing around her since she moved in, as if worried she was going to have a nervous breakdown. It was unnecessary. Hermione was calm, calm, calm. She would manage. They would manage. She just needed some time before she let Ron back into her life.

"Are you planning on going back to him?" Harry said. "It's not that we don't like having you here, it's just that you keep putting off finding another house with Ron. I think it's worrying him."

"Perhaps some worry might do him good," Hermione said breezily. "He's the one who screwed up, after all. Why should I be the one to make it right?"

Harry looked downright shocked at this unprecedented point of view. "But… you're the one who _always_ makes things right. For all of us."

"Well," Hermione said with determination. "It's about time you all learned how to fix things yourself. I mean, look at Teddy – no matter what advice I've given you, you haven't been able to get a word out of him. Perhaps it's time that you try with your own ideas instead of mine."

Harry looked, if possible, even more surprised. "But you always help me and Ginny out with problems we can't deal with ourselves!"

"Exactly my point," Hermione continued in her light-hearted tone. "The next time you and Ginny have a fight, you should be able to make up without me being there. When you forget to do your taxes you really should organise stuff yourself. I've been thinking, and it's just like with Ron – we're pretending we're still in school."

"Huh?"

"I do the brains, you do the bravery, and Ron is the heart," Hermione smiled. Her cheerfulness and calm were beginning to creep Harry out. "But that's the thing. We were supposed to grow up. Sure, we don't see each other as often now, but we still pretend like we're at school. The Golden Trio, each supplying one third of the perfect mixture… but we should be able to be whole people by ourselves. Ginny should be your 'most important thing' now – the one who's in the lake. Ron should never have had the right to give you permission to see her or to take it away."

"Ginny is more important to me then Ron," Harry said truthfully.

"Yes, but you see them as a package deal, don't you?" Hermione pointed out. "The Weasleys, the family you always wanted. It shouldn't be about the package, it should be just about Ginny."

"At first it was a little about the package deal," Harry admitted, looking a little ashamed. "And, yeah, at first Ron was more important to me than Ginny. But over the years…"

"Over the years, you've changed the way you see Ron, and the way you see Ginny. But none of you have changed the way you see me. The smart one, the one who fixes things, that's me. But it shouldn't be. You should've learned how to fix your screw-ups by yourself by now." Hermione's expression softened at Harry's obvious confusion. "I'm sorry, I'm not making much sense. It's like I'm thinking through fog, at the moment, I hardly know _what_ I'm saying half the time. I'm working through a train of thoughts and I'm pretty sure it's crashed." She looked down. "I'm so confused, Harry. I'm the smart one and now I feel stupid." Hermione's head shot back up at the sound of the doorbell. "I'll get it, it's probably Hayley again with the latest on the case we're working on."

However, when she got to the door and opened it, it wasn't Hayley. "Ron," she said warily. "I guess I should've expected you."

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**Between classes, boyfriend, friends, homework, silly season and this I've been getting roughly four hours sleep a night. So it's possible I won't update tomorrow… I mean, I'll try, but no guarantees.**

**I welcome reviews, like always, but please don't tell me in your reviews that you want a) Ron to be nicer or b) PWP. This is categorised **_**family**_** as well as romance for a reason, people. I'm doing my best on far too little sleep, so be nice!**


	21. OBHWF

"Ron, what are you doing here?" Hermione said, feeling her unnatural euphoria wearing off in the presence of her husband. Ron was red-faced, as if he'd forgotten he was a wizard and just run the whole way here. "I thought I told you. Time. As in, just let me figure stuff out for a while!"

"Yeah," Ron said angrily. "But that was you spending time on your own, not spending time with that stupid little ferret!"

"_What_?" Hermione spluttered. "I'm staying at Harry and Ginny's, for Merlin's sake, don't you think they would have warned you if I was having a torrid affair with Draco?"

"Hah! Your mind leapt instantly to an affair!" Ron bellowed, unaware of how ridiculous he sounded. "That means you must be sleeping with him!"

"Well, your mind leapt there even faster!" Hermione yelled back at him. He shouldered his way past her into the house. Harry seemed to have made himself scarce. "Maybe you're the one having sex with him!" Hermione's mind instantly threw up a visual that made her shudder.

"_Are you sleeping with that idiot?_" Ron roared.

"NO!" Hermione yelled right back. "Ron, he saved Hugo's life, show a bit of respect. We could have lost another child -"

"What?" Ron said, losing his fury for a second. "Oh, you mean the miscarriage last year. That's not the same thing at all. It wasn't a child -"

"It was a child to me! And you, you told me to 'just get over it'. There are some things you don't just _get over_, look at George!" Hermione said. "You don't understand what it's like to be a mother and have your chi-"

"Maybe I wasn't even his father," Ron said, going red again. "After all, the amount of men you're seeing -"

"I count two," Hermione said coldly. "Harry and Draco. And like I said, you owe Draco. _We_ owe Draco, he never even let me thank him properly -"

"The _naked_ kind of properly?" Ron raised his voice even higher. "Hermione, of course I'm not going to thank him, he only saved Hugo to try and steal him from me! That's what he's doing, he's getting revenge on me for all that stuff at Hogwarts! That's why he's trying to steal you!"

"_Some_ men think I'm worth stealing no matter _who_ I'm married to!" Hermione yelled back at him, and then immediately regretted it as Ron froze.

"He _is_ trying to steal you?" Ron said, his voice full of pain. "How long have you been…"

"We've never slept together," Hermione said firmly. "All Draco's done is let me know that he's there for me if I need him. Besides, why would Draco want revenge on you? _Harry_ is the one he always hated at school, he barely even noticed -" Hermione cut herself off, realising she was almost outdoing her husband in tactlessness.

"That ferrety bastard," Ron growled, going magenta. "Filling your head with all this stuff… you know what, he's probably coming onto Ginny too! I should warn her!"

Hermione looked at him in disbelief. "You must be kidding me. Because no man could possibly be attracted to me purely for myself, huh, Ron?"

"I didn't say that," Ron protested, momentarily distracted from his fury.

Hermione ignored him. "It would damn well serve you right if I did leave you, Ronald Weasley!"

Ron looked horrified. "No, Hermione, wait, I didn't… I love you."

"I love you too," Hermione said automatically, and then cursed herself as she realised he would take this as forgiveness. "I am _not _sleeping with Draco, Ron, I don't even know how you could think something so horrible." Not that it would be horrible, if what she'd seen so far was any indication… "Sometimes… sometimes our marriage is hard, Ron, but that doesn't mean I would do something like that."

"I don't believe you," said Ron stubbornly.

Hermione threw up her hands, exasperated. She no longer believed this marriage was even worth fighting for, really. So why was she fighting so hard? Fear of the unknown? "Believe what you want, Ron. Our marriage is over."

"What?" Ron said, panicking. "It can't be. I need you, 'Mione -"

"Well, maybe I don't need you!"

"_Fine_!" Ron yelled. "Go back to ferret-face, then! Astoria was right about you!"

There was a long pause. "Astoria?" Hermione said, slowly and awfully. "_She_ is the trustworthy person who told you all of this? And you _believed_ her? How could you?"

Ron paused and thought about that. Now that he actually considered it, why _was_ he listening to Malfoy's ex-wife? "Hermione, you can't leave me."

"Yes, I can!"

"No, you can't," Ron responded. He wasn't going to let fucking Draco Malfoy get his wife if he could help it. "You were annoyed with me for hurting Rose and Hugo, for losing the house. What you're doing… you'll be making them lose their _family_. Give me one more chance, 'Mione, please, you won't regret it…"

"Fine," Hermione said. "Fine. I'll think about it. If we do work things lout, you're doing an awful lot of housework, though, and paying attention to the hard parts of parenting… And looking up the word 'G-spot' on wikipedia, too. And I'll need some time to think about it, now. Just give me time, Ron."

"How much time?" Ron demanded persistently.

Hermione hesitated. "A week. One week."

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Angelina Weasley nee Johnson was worried about her husband. He was always so light, happy and mischievous that she sometimes forgot the serious depression he'd entered after his twin's death. Of course, she'd been sad as well – Fred was a close friend, and she'd even gone on a date with him once to the Yule Ball. It had taken months at the start of their relationship to convince George that her interest in him had absolutely nothing to do with Fred.

It wasn't fair of her to blame Hugo – only just nine – for bringing it all back up, but she did a little anyway. Angelina hadn't even noticed it at first, George's gradual descent into complete solitude, but she was noticing it now. When Fred Junior and Roxanne sent letters he skimmed through them and then threw them aside. He hadn't experimented with any new designs for weeks – Angelina had never thought she'd miss the steady stream of explosions that meant her husband had brought his work home, but she did now.

When they'd heard the message Angelina had hoped it would cure something. That believing Fred was still watching would make George even lighter. Angelina had even though he might join her Quidditch team, or something like that. Instead, he seemd to be drawing away from her - drawing away from all of them. Angelina didn't know exactly what was occupying her husband's mind, but she prayed the return of their children would cure it. Because, for once, she didn't seem able to help at all.

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When Hermione walked out of the room she found Ginny waiting for her. Her oldest female friend gave her a wide, encouraging smile. "Are you two back together now?"

"No," said Hermione, "Not yet." She was about to add that they probably would be soon when Ginny's smile completely vanished.

"'Mione, you're hurting Ron by doing this," Ginny clucked. In that moment she powerfully resembled Mrs Weasley, who would automatically hate and despise anyone who hurt one of her family. "Besides anything else, Harry and I can hardly put you and Hugo up forever -"

Hermione knew Ginny was just desperate to encourage her brother and one of her closest friends to reconcile. She knew Ginny was just looking out for Ron. She knew Ginny would put up her and Hugo forever if they asked. She knew Ginny and Harry both loved her, and looked out for her.

However, Hermione had also just been put through an emotional wringer yet _again_, so her ability to think clearly was pretty much nonexistent. "We'll be gone by morning," she snapped.

"Back to Ron?" Ginny looked delighted.

"To Hayley's," Hermione said coldly. "She'll put me up, no questions asked, I'm sure."

Ginny looked panicked. "Hermione, that's not what I meant! Of course Harry and I aren't going to kick you out -"

"You say the words 'Harry and I' a lot," Hermione remarked spitefully. She was dimly aware she was doing a Ron and working through sadness by being incredibly nasty, but she couldn't help herself. "Maybe you should just get a tattoo saying 'I snagged the Chosen One' so the _Daily Prophet_ never misses out on your new hairstyles."

Ginny's face went red. "Well, at least I'm _proud _of being Harry's wife! When's the last time you said 'Ron and I', at your wedding? You're just jealous because you wanted Harry."

"Yes, right, I was the one who whined pathetically about him since the age of ten years old!" Hermione retorted. "I remember you told me that whenever you kissed one of your other boyfriends, you kissed Harry! And there were a _lot_ of boyfriends -"

"Are you saying I was a slut?" Ginny said, shocked and angry.

"Oh, no, you just enjoyed the company of any attractive boy who looked at you!"

Twenty minutes later, after Ginny finally stormed away, Hermione picked up the phone. Well, she'd certainly have to leave tomorrow morning _now_, because the atmosphere in the Potter's house was going to get arctic. Best just to let Ginny cool down. "Hello, Hay?" Hermione said. Then she frowned. "Teddy? You shouldn't – oh, never mind, just give me Hayley. Hayley? Can Hugo and I come and stay with you for a while?"

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Draco was working right now, but his mind wasn't on what he was doing. He'd done these rounds so often he could probably do them in his sleep.

There was something about him lately… Draco wasn't sure if it was divorcing Astoria or falling for Hermione, but he felt much softer. Actually, damn it, he was sure. It was Hermione. She was the type of woman who made you want to be a better man. Draco had spent twenty years trying to atone for his past mistakes, but he'd never lost his snarkiness or his occasional nastiness… until now. Now it seemed like he was becoming exactly the kind of person he'd loathed in school. Friendly and cheerful and goody-goody.

Draco couldn't help wondering if he was losing the last parts of who he had been. Or was he finding parts he didn't know he had? Draco had thought he'd finished with character growth when he became a father, but apparently he'd been wrong. Hermione was changing him, but unfortunately he probably wasn't changing her.

It was like the years with Ron had dulled Hermione a bit – Draco remembered when all he had to do was say something negative about her appearance and she'd want to hex him. He'd always ascribed that to low self-esteem, and now that he was getting to know her Draco was sure he'd been right. However, her "happy" marriage seemed to have worsened that, as well as made her believe that compromise was the cure to anything. The Hermione who'd fight to the last inch for what she thought seemed to be gone, except when he deliberately brought up contentious political topics. If that was the effect marriage and motherhood had on her, he didn't approve. Draco wanted her to leave her idiot husband, and come to him, and then he'd damn well make sure she permanently became Hermione the Warrior Queen again.

Draco knew that what he was doing was wrong – he was deliberately playing the perfect husband in contrast to the Weasel's failure, to try and make Hermione leave Ron. Well, at the start he would have been satisfied with her cheating on Ron, but now he wanted it all. He wanted forever, and he wasn't going to stop fighting just because Hermione was so stupidly loyal to her loser of a husband.

He _was_ going to come out the winner here, no matter what he had to do. No matter who he had to hurt. Draco was still enough of a Slytherin for that.

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**I compromised on the 'sleep' issue, hence the short chapter. I have hinted at the miscarriage before, but I tried to keep it subtle. And, yes, Ron's an ass about it, but the phrase "it's not really a child" is actually a common one for men learning that their partners have had a miscarriage. (Jerks).**

**Reviews are always appreciated. Flames never are.**

**The title OBHWF is actually a shipping group "One Big Happy Weasley Family" for those who really like the canon shipping – interestingly, it was invented long before Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny became canon, and many people hated it for how saccharine and obvious an ending it sounded. In this case, I'm using it sarcastically, since I tried to show three separate Weasleys having problems - the books always annoyed me in that they implied that the only cause of sadness in Harry's world was Voldemort. Nobody had miscarriages, or fought with their sisters-in-law, or got depressed. Well, in my story they do.**


	22. Room in the Stable

"I'm sorry, 'Mione, but this is kind of not working out," Hayley pointed out. "You guys are both sleeping on the couch and whenever he's here Hugo is practically bouncing off the walls. This place wasn't _built_ for a family."

"I know," admitted Hermione reluctantly, "But I just don't know where else to go, I can hardly go back to Harry's after being such a bitch to Ginny. I thought about staying with one of the others, but I don't think I could handle living with any of them. I considered George, but it turns out that lately he hasn't been coping that well, since Hugo gave him that odd message. So I don't know what to do."

"I know what you could do. You could -"

"No, I am _not_ going back to Ron yet," Hermione said adamantly. "I just need some time before then. I need to think about where we go from here…"

"Oh, don't interrupt, 'Mione, I wasn't going to suggest you go back to Ron," Hayley replied crossly. "For your information, I think Ron should be punished by at least a month of absence. Possibly a year. Actually, if I was you, I'd be gunning for forever, but -"

"He's my husband," said Hermione quietly. "Leaving him wouldn't be fair to Hugo or Rose. The Weasleys would hate me… the Potters would probably hate me too. And what about his gambling problem? It would just get worse without me there. I couldn't do that to him… part of this is my fault, for ignoring him for so long."

"When you ignore a little puppy dog, it's expected to chew your shoes," Hayley retorted. "But when you ignore a husband, his response shouldn't be 'I'll go lose our house! That will make her notice me!'"

"Let's just leave this subject alone, Hay," Hermione sighed. They'd been arguing about this for the two days. The trouble was, it was getting harder and harder for Hermione to defend Ron. Hermione had, perhaps naively, expected time to fix everything that had gone wrong with them. Hermione had spent the last few months insisting to Draco and Hayley and Ron himself that she loved him, because she assumed that underneath everything, there _was_ still love for him. But now she'd started soul-searching, she found that when she thought of Ron there was… well, nothing, really. A small amount of fondness and a large amount of irritation. "What was your suggestion?"

"Move into Draco's house," Hayley said. "He suggested it to me. He's going to be away for the next week or so sorting out some company stuff, so the Manor will be empty." Hayley frowned. "Damn it, now I'm wishing I could move in with him. Huge, empty, rich, beautiful, and with a wicked little smirk…"

"O-kaaaay, Hay, you're rapidly moving from appreciation for the Manor to appreciation for it's owner, and it's creeping me out. I can't move into Draco's house," Hermione said firmly. "There is nothing you can say that will convince me to move into Draco Malfoy's home!"

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"I is so happy to be having you, Mistress Weasel!" Harold said, looking thrilled. "I is delighted to be able to welcome you to our – I mean, Master Draco's – Manor."

Hermione hesitated. "Are you sure Draco's okay with this?"

"Mum," Hugo said patiently. "You already owled him twice. He's okay with it. I want to see the gardens! Draco says they have the best collection of magical plants in England!"

"Stay away from them," Hermione said instantly, remembering some of her own experiences in Herbology.

"No, I'll go with the young master and keep him safe," Harold said, beaming at Hugo. Hermione was under no illusions about which of them Harold was happiest to see. "I is just needing a moment, Mistress, to send Clinky to handle your bags." With a little nod, Harold disappeared.

Hermione dumped her bags on the ground with a sigh. She was now a resident of Malfoy Manor.

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Two days of living in luxury later, Hermione picked up the carefully folded _Daily Prophet_ from next to her plate at breakfast.

HERMIONE WEASLEY SHACKS UP WITH DRACO MALFOY: THEIR SECRET AFFAIR the headlines screamed. Hermione nearly screamed right back. "Oh, my god," she said, and started to speed read her way through the article.

_War hero Hermione (37) might be, but apparently the brainy brunette can't resist a hot body… even when it belongs to an ex-Death Eater like Malfoy, also 37. Betraying all the beliefs she's espoused so ardently for more than twenty years, as well as her marriage to prominent auror Ron Weasley (37), Hermione Weasley (nee Granger) has taken her young son Hugo and moved into Malfoy Manor._

_Their steamy affair is estimated to have lasted more than a year according to luscious raven-haired beauty Astoria Greengrass, whose husband was convinced to leave her by the adulteress and temptress Hermione. "Draco loved me faithfully for thirteen years," Astoria sadly told the _Daily Prophet_, "He was completely devoted to me, and our son Scorpius. Then along came Mrs Weasley. I'm not accusing Mrs Weasley of anything illegal, but I am wondering what lengths she must have gone to in order to seduce him away from his loving family." Astoria Malfoy turned Astoria Greengrass has told her whole heartbreaking story to _Witch Weekly_, where it takes up roughly ten pages. _

_This is not the first accusation Hermione Weasley has faced as to the illegal use of Love Potions, and some people must surely be wondering how she has gotten away without even the most minor of investigations. Perhaps it's because of her husband's job as an auror, or her own as a specialist in Magical Law, or perhaps just her close and abiding "friendship" with the Boy Who Lived. Interestingly, Harry Potter (37) and his wife Ginevra Potter (36) appear to have recently banned Hermione from their home, perhaps having discovered her illicit affair – or perhaps Hermione Weasley's appetite was not satisfied with just one married man, and she attempted to snare another._

_One must wonder how Rose Weasley (11) has taken the news of her mother's betrayal. When questioned by this reporter, she showed a state of denial so complete as to be tragic. How can Hermione Weasley ignore the effects of her poor decisions on her innocent child's mental health? Let alone the effects on her husband, who has moved back into his parents' home in a state of near-collapse. The _Daily Prophet's_ careful inquiries have discovered that Hermione has been abandoning her family for weeks, throwing herself into her work – which, presumably in order to satisfy her desire for wealth, is now almost completely divorce cases. Continually working has also been a good cover for her affair with Draco Malfoy, and perhaps also a steamy affair with her young and innocent secretary (pictured below). Hermione clearly has a craving for attractive men and women that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley alone cannot fulfil._

_Hermione Weasley also –_

Hermione tore her eyes away from the spiteful words, and moved them down to the pictures. There was her and Ron, pictured at some function, both looking bored; there was her hanging off Hayley, screaming with laughter; there was her hugging Harry closely; and finally, there was her sitting with Draco on a park bench, both leaning towards each other, deep in discussion about – if she remembered correctly – the newly proposed laws for mermaids. Who on earth had photographed them there?

Hermione couldn't help but be relieved there was no sign of her children in the pictures, but from the sound of it they had already managed to corner Rose. She would have to write a letter to the Headmistress telling her to tighten security against reporters, it probably hadn't been an issue for years, but Hermione hated the idea that another reporter could attack her beloved Rose and feed her these awful lies. The children were young, they wouldn't understand what rubbish this all was. She should probably owl Ron and tell him not to believe it too –

No. Hermione decided against it. He damn well better believe she was faithful, after everything they'd been through together. If she were the type of woman to cheat and divorce her husband, she would have done it already. The very fact that she'd stayed was proof she would never do that to him, and Ron must realise that.

Hermione skimmed through the rest of the article twice, before being surprised by a knock on the door. She opened it to reveal Draco.

"I read the papers," he said, "I thought it was a bit hard for me to be having an evil adulterous affair with someone from far away, so I came back to see how you were doing." Draco paused. "Actually, I expected you to be at work by now, it's past nine."

"Day off," Hermione replied numbly. "God, _Hugo_, Harold took him to school earlier. He'll hear about this from someone else-"

"Go fetch him?" suggested Draco, coming in and shrugging off his coat. Clinky appeared silently to grab it. "Thanks."

"I can't," said Hermione miserably. "That would just make the stories worse, I'll have to wait for him to get home and talk to him then. Oh, Merlin, this is bad."

"Hermione," said Draco sternly, silently exulting at her use of the word 'home'. "No one who really knows you would think you'd be such a horrible person as to do all this stuff. Plus, clearly the _Daily Prophet_ doesn't have a clue about anything – thinking you'd be sleeping with four people at once, for one, and for another they completely left out anything to do with the Weasel's gambling."

"Only because it didn't fit their story, I bet," Hermione retorted. "They didn't want to say I cheated on my poor, defenceless, gambling addict of a husband, it makes the story less one-sided. Soon they'll be back with 'Hermione Weasley Drives Prominent Auror To Gambling With Her Infidelity: What A Bitch.'"

"Their headings _do _keep getting longer," Draco said irrelevantly. "I remember back when it only took them five or six words to cut into someone's soul. Now they need about a dozen. Depressing, isn't it? No wonder you're so worried."

Hermione glared at him. "Don't make this into a joke. My _daughter_ is going to read this – they interviewed her, for Merlin's sake!"

"And she said she didn't know what the hell they were talking about," Draco pointed out logically. "Which she doesn't. If anything, this is probably a fabulous new advertisement for your divorce business." Draco didn't really believe what he was saying, but Hermione looked so horrified he felt he had to make light of it.

"Yeah," Hermione said, giving a weak smile. "I guess so."

"Come on," said Draco suddenly. "Let's go do something." He caught her expression. "Oh, not in public or anything, don't worry. Want to do something on the lawn? You need to occupy your time until Hugo gets home somehow, and this is your day off. You should be enjoying yourself!"

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It was more than five hours later when Hermione and Draco finally came inside for good. Hermione was grinning, even though the newspaper article had never entirely left her mind. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun – she'd spent hours teaching Draco muggle sports like snowboarding. Though initially suspicious, he'd picked it up quite fast, really. They'd also had several snowball fights in the melting snow, and Draco had taught Hermione the interesting wizarding game of snow diving, which she would be quite happy to do again provided she removed her fear glands.

Finally, the only thing that forced the two of them out of the dying winter wonderland was the realisation that Hugo would be home quite soon. Hermione was worried about him – how confused he must be by the newspaper article. As it happened, confusion was the last thing Hugo suffered from.

The second he came through the door, Hermione stopped laughing at what Draco had been saying. Hugo looked furious, and the glance he directed towards her and Draco seemed hate-filled.

"Hugo -" Draco began, but Hugo cut him off.

"Don't want to talk to you. Go away. You're not my friend, not if you're trying to steal my Mum!"

Draco left silently, deciding this was really a family conversation. "You shouldn't talk to him like that," Hermione scolded, aiming to go for authority. "I thought you liked Draco. He saved your life, Hugo, remember? You can't decide to hate him based on that silly thing in the paper -"

"Yes, I can!" Hugo shouted. "Yes, I can, because you're my _mother_. Stop defending that jerk – what about Dad – what are you doing – he's my _Dad_, you can't do this to him!"

"Draco's not a jerk," Hermione said, trying to stay calm. "And I'm not leaving your father, we're just staying apart for a little while so we can think about things -"

"The kids at school say that's coz you're divorcing Dad!" yelled Hugo, his face bright red. In that moment he seemed very like his father. "They keep calling you a slut!"

Hermione gasped. "Kids your age shouldn't even know that word!"

"We do anyway! And everybody's laughing at me and being mean about you and I kept fighting them to make 'em take it back, but I don't know why because you're hurting Dad!" Hugo drew a huge breath, completely out of air. "You should be with Dad! We shouldn't be here! I want to go home!"

"Well, you're out of luck then, young man," Hermione said stoutly, aware she sounded a lot like her own mother and hating herself for it. "We're staying put."

"You are," said Hugo, suddenly calm, looking much older than he was. "You can stay here, but I'm not. My teacher gave me permission to owl Dad, and he's picking me up from here as soon as possible. I'm gonna go stay at Grandma and Grandpa's with Dad. I'm gonna go get my stuff now." His face crumpled up.

"No, Hugo, please -" Hermione said wildly, reaching out a hand towards her child.

He batted it away, looking like he was about to burst into tears. "I hate you!" he yelled. "I hate you!"

Hermione sat there, winded, long after he had gone upstairs to get his stuff. She felt like he'd punched her hard in the stomach. "How could he say that?" she muttered, feeling a lot like crying herself.

"It's the natural response, it doesn't mean anything," Draco assured her, having somehow rematerialised. "He doesn't really hate you. Kids just like everything to stay the same. You know, when Scorp was ten, I brought up the idea of divorcing Astoria and at first he was dead against it. Of course Hugo's going to be loyal to his father."

"_I'm_ loyal to his father, too," Hermione said stubbornly.

Draco's silver-grey eyes were, like normal, completely unreadable. "I'm in the best position in the world to know that your loyalty to him verges on the ridiculous."

Hermione was pretty sure that wasn't meant as a compliment. The doorbell rung, and Hugo blew past Hermione on his way to answer it. He had his bag thrown over his shoulder – it was bulging so much that pieces of clothing fell out of the half-unzipped opening on his way out, but its weight Charm meant Hugo could still carry it with ease.

"Hugo -" Hermione tried again, but Hugo just shot her a glare.

"Don't talk to me," he said stonily. "Go talk to your _boyfriend_."

"But -" Hermione tried to explain, following him to the door. "Draco's not – I swear, Hugo – I'm not -" She nearly crashed into Ron as Hugo moved to stand behind him.

"Hello, Hermione," Ron said formally, his voice and face emotionless. "Are you coming with us?"

"No," Hermione said helplessly. "Ron, I said a week! After that, I promise -"

"Fine," Ron said coldly. "Come on, Hugo, let's go. I brought a portkey because I'm not very good at Side-Along, and I'd hate for you to get hurt." His blue eyes fixed on Hermione very deliberately, reminding her that she had allowed Hugo to get hurt by all this.

"Ron, I would never cheat on you -" Hermione said rather desperately. "Please don't -" But with a last fierce look, Ron disappeared with their son, leaving Hermione standing just outside the Manor trying not to cry. From behind, Draco wrapped his arms around her, supporting her.

"It'll be all right," he said. "I know it'll all be all right."

Hermione swallowed her tears and detached herself to give him a stoic nod. "Yes," she said, trying to sound certain. "Yes, this will all turn out fine. Come on, let's go back inside."

And at that moment Hermione realised that she now shared Malfoy Manor with Draco, completely alone apart from the subtle presence of several house-elves. She lived with Draco Malfoy.

Hermione swallowed again. "Merlin. Oh, Merlin."

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**So... I guess some of you will be disappointed by this, or more specifically by Hugo's reaction. But you know, even children who see their mothers get _beaten_ by their fathers sometimes react really badly to the idea of their mother and father divorcing. We defend our parents. Good or bad, we love them anyway... which explains why so many children end up screwed up.**


	23. Bad Choices

The next few days were heavenly. Draco treated Hermione like a princess – he made every moment they spent together alive with fun and sweetness. When he was busy at work Healing, the house-elves were instructed to look after her. One afternoon after she got home from work Hermione decided to talk to the house-elves about freedom. For three hours they nodded, listened, and asked relevant questions, causing Hermione to believe that she was finally getting through to the house-elf community. Then, as soon as Draco stepped through the door, Clinky's first words were "We is doing as you ordered, master, and listening to her, but she is hurting my mind! Make her stop!"

It was like a vacation, Hermione thought. A vacation from the real world. Of course, she still worried about Hugo and Rose, but somehow the rest of the world seemed nonexistent from the vantage point of the Manor. Of course, she hated going through the room where she'd been tortured, but Draco had renovated the house so that it was barely ever necessary to go through the room, no matter where you were going. Hermione had asked him why he didn't simply remove it, but his response was just "So I don't forget." In response to him showing her such an intimate part of himself, she'd gone to her bag and gotten the one ultrasound she'd kept, and taken it down to show to him. When he'd asked whether it was Hugo or Rose, she'd replied "Neither." They talked for a long time that night.

Hermione finally managed to get enough funds together to get a rental, since all her cash was tied up in Ron's debts, but she no longer wanted to leave. Of course, if she actually did end up divorcing Ron then this would look very bad, she knew, but somehow Hermione couldn't bring herself to care while on this holiday from reality.

Unfortunately, the real world intruded soon enough, in the form of a letter from Rose.

_Mum, how could you do this to Dad? What's going on? I thought that stupid Daily Prophet lady was just being stupid, but then Hugo sent me a letter, and he said you chose that Malfoy guy over us. How could you? Don't you love us? Don't you love Dad? You said you'd love us forever, mum, how come you're doing this? It's gross, Scorpy and I can barely talk to each other, it's so gross! It's wrong! I'll never forgive you for this, never –_

Hermione tore her eyes away from the letter. "Ow," she mumbled. "Oh, okay, that hurts." Suddenly Hermione really wished she could tell them the truth about Ron, and how he'd lost them their house. Of course, Rose hadn't been around lately, so she had no idea how bad a parent and a husband Ron had been. Hermione really couldn't expect her support – but the kids did deserve the truth. Every last bit of it.

"Hey, 'Mione, I'm back," Draco called out from the front of the house. "It was such an easy reattachment, I don't even know why they bothered calling me." He appeared in the doorway. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Hermione said hurriedly, stuffing the letter into her pocket. "I'll worry about it later." She smiled at him. "Can you teach me some more wizarding golf?"

The wizarding version of golf – called Parnelli after the inventor – was just about the most enjoyable game Hermione had ever played. Like in muggle mini-golf, there were lots of obstacles, but in Parnelli all of the obstacles did things. For example, some could make your single golf ball explode into three, all of which you had to get in the hole; or the ball could turn into a lizard and run away until you managed to catch it – sometimes closer to the hole and sometimes farther. The Malfoys _of course_ owned the only private green in England, Draco had informed her with exaggerated conceit.

In the first hole, Hermione was aiming for a blue and white spotted plastic toad, which would make her golf ball grow little wings and fly towards the hole until her opponent shot it down with his wand. She'd never gotten it before.

"Wow," Draco said, watching with admiration as she belted the ball as hard as she could. "Little bit of aggression there, 'Mione." To the surprise of both of them, the roughly hit ball suddenly stopped in mid-roll. "I think you've found an invisible obstacle, my father was very fond of those."

"How come we haven't encountered them before now?" Hermione asked, eyeing her golf ball nervously. It was glowing bright yellow and shaking.

"Because I removed most of them," Draco admitted. "A lot of them had things like scorpions, poisonous snakes, rocks that attacked you, and excruciating pain. I kind of child-proofed it for Scorpius."

"Oh, okay," Hermione said. "So we should be able to deal with whatever it is, right? I mean, scorpions and spiders, that doesn't sound too -" She stopped. Her golf ball had emitted a mighty roar. "LIONS? Your father put in LIONS? How can that possibly be legal?" A lion leapt calmly out of her golf ball, and Hermione quickly transfigured it into a rabbit. Unfortunately, three more leapt out of it. "A whole _pride_ _of lions_?"

"My father wasn't greatly into legal, as you'll recall," Draco pointed out, sounding a little in shock. "Besides which, this is the magical world, we don't have NHS. Look at Quidditch, it has a metal sphere that runs round flying into people's faces. I don't know a lot about lions, really. Should we be standing very still or running as fast as possible?" He pointed his wand at one of the lions, which exploded into three lions.

"DRACO! Why the hell did you do that?"

"I didn't! He must have made them immune to Vanishing charms!"

The next fifteen minutes were, Hermione had to admit, incredibly exciting. By the time Draco managed to destroy the golf ball, there were more than twenty lions running around. Though she ended up with three rather serious scratches Hermione couldn't help but be proud of her spell-work, and was highly impressed with Draco's too. "You should be an auror," she told him seriously while he was magicking away her wounds.

"Hold still," Draco said absentmindedly. "Yes, that's good. These are deep, 'Mione, how could you not even notice them?"

"Adrenaline," Hermione said. She felt her smile slowly fading away, looking at his face. There was something so incredibly _sexy_ about being fixed up by Draco. "How come you never got in the papers for saving Hugo?" she blurted out, having wanted to know for ages.

Draco shrugged, still managing to continue his wandwork perfectly. "That was the deal with my boss. No media and I got to keep my job. Besides, that would probably have been embarrassing for Hugo."

Hermione struggled to think of something to say that wasn't 'Do me now'. "Still, did I ever really thank you?"

Draco looked up at her and smiled, making her go week at the knees. "Of course you did. And nearly all of the Weasleys did, for that matter. I ended up with at least a dozen home-cooked meals a day from the Weasley women – well, and Percy –while I was in St Mungos. Plus, I couldn't get Hugo to start acting normally around me for days, he kept just thanking me all the time. I got thanked by everyone in ridiculously over-the-top ways."

"Except Ron," Hermione said slowly. "I'm sorry about that, he's just -"

"It doesn't matter," Draco said. "Really, it doesn't. I didn't do it for praise from the Weasel."

"What _did _you do it for?" Hermione challenged him.

"Hugo," he said simply, and then paused. "And you. Both of you."

Hermione leaned forwards and kissed him, unable to stop herself. She pushed him down into the grass. He returned her kiss – it wasn't like their other kisses, though. This had no roughness or desperation in it. This was pure joy, and Hermione couldn't get enough of it.

Draco's hand slid across her stomach, making Hermione moan. Apparently he took that as encouragement because his hand moved lower, under her jeans. He was brushing it against her… he was getting closer… _oh_.

Completely without thought, Hermione moved against his hand, please, harder, more, I need more. He took his hand away and she was left gasping and desperate. "Draco… please…" she managed to say.

"Shhh," he said, his voice thick with desire. He undid her jeans and pulled them and her underwear down quickly. Hermione didn't quite understand what he was doing when he didn't undo his own pants, but then he slid down her body and she realised.

"No," she whimpered as she felt his tongue against her. "Oh god, that's too much…" Suddenly, he placed his mouth completely over her and sucked hard, making her scream. Then his fingers found her at the same time, and he was pushing her quickly to climax. As soon as she came the first time, Hermione expected him to stop, but he continued harder, making her come again. It was even more exquisite. He just kept touching her, licking her, until her hands knotted in his hair, until she felt like she was coming continuously. Until she couldn't tell where one climax ended and the next one began. Until her voice was hoarse and she felt herself get dizzy. Until, with the last, most earth-shattering climax, she fainted.

DDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDD

"I love you," were Hermione's first words when she woke up, smiling lazily.

Draco was lying on his left side, facing her, his right hand playing with her hair. "I've known that for ages, just like you've known I love you too."

"I didn't know that," Hermione exclaimed lightly. "I didn't know either of the that's."

"Well," Draco said, struggling to keep a straight face. "You've always been a little slow." Hermione hit him playfully, but he caught her hand and kissed it. "So… what now?"

Hermione's smile disappeared as she realised what she'd done. "Oh, Merlin, I'm an adulteress. I cheated on Ron."

"And it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," Draco said. He sighed at the look on Hermione's face. "Keep your pants on – well, metaphorically, anyway – you didn't cheat. We didn't have sex. Well, we had _oral _sex -"

"Not. Making. Me. Feel. Better," Hermione enunciated very clearly. She suddenly remembered the letter in her back pocket. "I have to go back to him."

"_What_?" Draco nearly yelled. They were still lying on the grass, semi-naked, and suddenly he felt very cold. "No, 'Mione, you can't do this. You can't keep doing this."

"'Keep' doing this?" Hermione said slowly. "I've only done this once."

"Not what I meant," Draco ground out. "You've been zigzagging between us for months. Kiss me, leave, be lovey-dovey with husband, kiss me, leave – how many times have you repeated that cycle? It's repetitive, and boring," Draco said ruthlessly. "You say you love me, and now you say you have to trot along home? I don't think so."

"I have to," Hermione said, feeling like her heart was breaking. She couldn't manage to think clearly. "Rose… she wrote me a letter… she'll never forgive me. Hugo wouldn't either. What if they never wanted to see me again? And what about -"

"If you're about to mention the Weasel, I will be very annoyed," Draco warned.

"He needs me -"

"Merlin, 'Mione, I need you!" Draco said loudly. "I need every beautiful, bossy, bitchy inch of you. I'm not like Weasel – I don't need money from you, or ego-boosts, or anything like that. All I need from you… is you."

"I can't do this, Draco, I can't," Hermione said, staring at him. "Please don't make me this person. The one who leaves her husband who needs her for a roll in the grass -"

"I'm sick of this," Draco said, sitting up. "I'm sick to death of hearing about how _complicated_ your feelings for the Weasel are. They aren't, they're simple, so stop whining about your crappy marriage. Do you love him? No. Do you love me? Yes. Stay with me, 'Mione. Choose me." Draco paused, realising how pathetic that sounded. "And you know what? This is _the_ choice. The one chance, Hermione. There aren't any others."

"What do you mean?"

"It's the last choice," Draco explained simply. "If you choose me, you have me. I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy. But if you choose the Weasel… then you have him. Forever. There's no friendship between us, no talking, no lunchtimes together, no hope for the future," he choked on his last words. "No second chances. I won't be here if you come back to look for me. I'm not going to be a back-up, not for anyone. If I'm your second choice – well, then I'm not even an option." He met her brown eyes with his grey ones, showing her how serious he was about this. "This is the last time you'll have the choice between me and the Weasel. Choose."

"No, Draco – don't – don't do this, please don't -" Hermione sat up too. She tried to reach for him, but he leaned back, looking at her like she was a stranger. "I can't leave Ron -"

"Right," Draco said. His face had closed down, a cold, hard mask in place. "Then that's your choice. Goodbye, Mrs Weasley." He threw her shirt at her. "Get dressed, get your stuff, get out, and go back to the Weasel. If he's your choice, start acting like it -"

"Draco, don't be like this, please, don't do this -"

"I'm not the one doing it, Mrs Weasley," he said, saying her name like it was a curse. "You're doing it. This is your decision. Get the fuck out of my life. Go back to your crappy little life and embrace your crappy little marriage. Maybe the Weasel will get over gambling – and learn how to be better in bed, because if the way you were screaming under me was any indication he hasn't been up to the job for a while." Hermione flinched at his vicious words, and Draco felt bitterly happy. He still had a Slytherin's power over pain when he needed to cause it.

In a feeble attempt to gather her composure, Hermione said, "It'll… it'll take me a while to get my stuff… a few hours."

"Fine, I'll be in the drawing room, enjoying the warmth of the fire." Draco said, knowing she would find it too awkward to talk to him in a room with so much history. "Picturing how the Weasel will feel when the next time you're under him you're moaning my name."

Hermione winced, and Draco knew he'd scored a direct hit. "Draco, stop acting this way. Can't we be friends – I _need_ you in my life, Draco -"

"Then you should have chosen differently," Draco said icily. He turned and strode away while a crying Hermione was still scrabbling for her clothes.

DDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDD

Nearly three hours later, Hermione raised her hand to knock on the door to the drawing room and then paused. How could she talk to him? But how could she not at least say goodbye? Some part of her still believed she could have them both in her life. She tried to squash it – since when could duty and love really coexist?

Suddenly Hermione frowned. She was pretty sure she could hear voices – voices, plural. Maybe someone had come through the fire. She quickly knocked and opened the door before anyone could reply. The scene in front of her made her feel like somebody had attacked her with a flamethrower. It was agony.

"My, my," Astoria purred, looking up from kissing her ex-husband's chest. "You liar, Draco. I thought you said the slut was gone."

"She will be," Draco said dismissively, only sparing a short glance at the woman he loved. Hermione was in just as much pain from this as he'd hoped. "I already told her to fuck off. I can only stand desperation and pathetic whining for so long, after all."

DDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDD

Hayley stumbled out of bed at midnight, woken by the doorbell. She stared blearily out into the night. "'Mione?" Her best friend was holding all her bags, and looked wrecked. Her eyes were weirdly vacant, and Hayley felt a chill of fear go through her. "What's going on?"

"Can I stay?" Hermione said calmly.

"Sure, of course. Where's Hu-"

"Gone," Hermione responded, giving Hayley a brief, sad smile that only scared her more. "They're all gone. It's over."

"What's over?" Hayley demanded to know, frantic. "The thing with Draco, or your marriage to Ron?"

"Both of them are over," Hermione said. "Draco left me, and now I've… I've left Ron, for good. My marriage is over."

DDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDD

**So, two hopefully long-awaited events. Hermione and Draco going further (sorry about the sex scene, I know I'm not very good at them) and Hermione decides to leave Ron. Too bad it's still complicated… don't worry, your patience will be rewarded soon. Please review!**

**BTW, hope you like Parnelli. I want minigolf like that...**


	24. What Can't Be Fixed

"Okay, 'Mione, I gave you last night free, but now it's time to talk," Hayley said firmly, pressing a cup of tea into Hermione's cold hands. "What's going on? Where's Hugo? What happened with Ron? What happened with Draco?"

"Where have you been the last few days?" Hermione challenged. "You owled saying you were sick and couldn't come to work, but clearly you're fine. And apparently you haven't been reading the paper."

"The paper? Why, what's in the paper?" Hayley asked, curious.

"Where _have_ you been?" Hermione repeated. "Come on, tell me."

Hayley flushed. "Okay, but no judging. I've been with Teddy," Hayley caught Hermione's expression. "No, not that kind of 'with'! He just wanted help with some paperwork for his job, and it took longer than I thought it would."

"Wait, less than a week ago you were whining about your stalker," Hermione pointed out, "And now you're helping him with work? What's wrong with this picture?"

"Him getting behind on work is my fault," Hayley said stubbornly. "It's only fair I help him catch up."

Hermione put her hand to her forehead as if in pain. "When you say 'your fault', you mean he was too busy stalking you to do his work, don't you? You have the screwiest taste in men _ever_, Hay. Remember that actor with the -"

Hayley waved a hand dismissively. "Ancient history. Besides, I was due a few sick days, and Teddy's quite sweet really. Once he stops with the insane crush we could be friends… maybe… or I could be an honorary aunt, maybe."

"There's not that big an age difference," Hermione said softly. "You two could -"

"No, we couldn't," Hayley said firmly. "I'm totally too mature for him. When I talk to him I feel like I'm his goddamn mother. Lecturing him all the time, do this, do that, blah." She frowned. "And you got me totally off subject. So, papers, Hugo, Ron, Draco, tell me everything."

"Oh. Well the _Daily Prophet_ published a bunch of stuff about me and Draco having mind-blowing sex," Hermione ticked the events of on her fingers. "Hugo got pissed and went to Ron. Ron got pissed, as well. I got attacked by a pride of lions. Then Draco and I _did_ have mind-blowing sex, but not full sex because that would be wrong. Well, wronger, anyway. Slightly." Hermione ran out of fingers on that hand and moved to the next. "Then Draco said to choose, and I said no, and _he_ got pissed. He slept with his bitch-queen of an ex-wife. I saw them together. Damn it, I've run out of fingers. Imagine this on my toes, now," Hermione made a lame attempt at levity. "When I saw them… it hurt so much… I just realised I couldn't stay with Ron. Because to be honest, I don't think I'd care much at all if he slept with someone else. So… I owled him, and then I owled the Department of Marriages at the ministry to organise a divorce. The appointment is next week." Hermione swallowed hard. "I'm going to be a divorcee. My children are going to hate this so much."

Hayley sat there in silence for a moment. "Okay… go back to the bit about the mid-blowing sex. With details. You are going back to Draco, right?"

"No, I'm not," Hermione said, annoyed that Hayley was missing all the relevant parts of it. "Number one, what he did, what he said… he was awful. I mean, I know he was hurting, but still! Number two, how can I ask my kids to adjust to me being with someone other than their father? Rose is coming home in two days, I'm going to explain the divorce to both the children then, but there's no possible way I could explain Draco. They'd hate me."

"Oh, Rose is coming home again?" Hayley said, as usual disregarding all of what Hermione thought of as the most important points. "Who's picking her up?"

Hermione looked at her, confused. "Ron and me, obvi – oh, shit. You're right. This is going to be so complicated! Who picks her up? Where will she stay? Aaargh! I hate divorces!"

"Well, she can't stay here," Hayley pointed out logically. "No room. If you want to have Rosie stay with you for some of the holidays, you're going to have to find a place of your own."

"Of course I want Rose!" Hermione wailed, starting to pace. "But how do I get a place in two days?" She started making mental plans.

"Back to the important part," Hayley interrupted again. "You really _aren't _going back to Draco?" Hermione shook her head. "But! Sex! Mind-blowing! How can you give that up?" Hayley grabbed Hermione's hand, trying to stop her pacing. "Draco really cares about you – not that he told me anything about this, that bastard -" Hayley got sidetracked by her own annoyance. "The point is, he cares."

"He slept with Astoria."

"Oh, no!" Hayley said sarcastically. "Being with one person and sleeping with another. Who could do something like that? 'Mione, you have no high moral ground here at _all_. Your moral ground is at the bottom of a deep, deep ocean or possibly in the core of the earth. Talk to him, apologise, he'll apologise too, you'll have sex. Hot, mind-blowing sex, which you'll tell me all about." Hayley stopped and fanned her face. "Sorry, it's been a slow month."

"I can't go back to Draco," Hermione yanked her hand away from Hayley and returned to pacing. "It would hurt the kids, and Ron, and eventually even me. In fact, it's _already _hurt me. Besides," Hermione lied. "I think it was just one of those forbidden-crush things. You know, when you feel attracted to someone just because they're hot and not allowed." Hermione took a deep breath, trying to convince herself she was right. "And now that it's not forbidden, there's nothing there. I don't want Draco Malfoy, and I doubt that he'll want me." _I am not in love with Draco. I am NOT IN LOVE WITH DRACO MALFOY. Repeat five million times. Or more._

Hayley looked disappointed, but apparently satisfied with this explanation – probably because of her own weakness for illicit passions. "Oh. Damn. You two were so cute." Hayley paused to consider. "Actually, everyone's cute with Draco. Because he's so ridiculously hot. Like male-model with a bit of sexy-doctor and a lot of reformed-bad-boy and a smidgen of sarcastic broodiness added in for good measure. And then those beautiful silvery- what the _hell_ is wrong with you, 'Mione, go back to the guy!"

There was a knock on the door. Hayley leapt up, brightening. "Teddy!"

Hermione scowled at her. "As much as I like the kid, he _is_ being a stalker. You shouldn't be so… sympathetic. Or so happy to see him."

"Edward is a stalker, and millions of girls went trippy over him," Hayley responded flippantly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We both know that's only because the author cast a Stupefaction Spell on the books." Hermione was determined to start acting normal again. Her marriage was over, her thing with Draco was over, but her life wasn't over. She was damn well going to stop worrying about men. "Besides, it could be Ron at the door, wanting to talk about stuff. I'd better get it." She was damn well going to stop worrying about men _tomorrow_, then.

Hermione was proved to be correct when she opened the door. Ron was standing on the step, visibly fuming. "Hermione," he said through gritted teeth. "What the hell?"

"Ah, you got my message," Hermione said brightly, and then softened a bit. "We're separated, Ron," she said as gently as possible. "You must have known there was a chance it would end in divorce. Separation often does."

Ron grabbed her upper arms, holding her tightly. "To other people! Not to us, 'Mione, never to us. We're meant for each other!"

She yanked herself out of his grasp. "Once we were, Ronald. Not now. I want something different, and to be honest I think you do too."

"No, I don't," Ron denied it, following her in without asking. "And you don't either. It's just a rough patch -"

"Rough patches don't last this long, and they don't get this bad," Hermione told him ruthlessly. "I want a divorce. I'd just prefer it if we could do it in… well…. I civilised way."

"Civilised?" Ron said, his face turning redder. "You want a _divorce_!"

"Hugo and Rose deserve stability," Hermione continued, ignoring him. "Us fighting, you gambling, me working too hard to cover the gambling debts… none of that's good for them. If we can do this with the minimum harm to our children -"

"_Stability?_ Is that what you call moving in with the ferret?" Ron yelled. Hermione was relieved to see Hayley had left them to it – it would normally be far more Hayley's style to stay there and suggest helpful insults.

"I'm finding my own place," Hermione said calmly. "This divorce has nothing to do with Draco. This is about me, and you, and the fact that we're just not working anymore."

"_Not working?_"

"Could you please stop just choosing a word I say and then yelling it?" Hermione said irritably. "I assume you're here to talk, and that's not adding to the discussion at all. I'm sorry, Ron, but we're divorcing – this isn't something you can deny or ignore. I'm sorry that I'm hurting you, but really, you must have seen it coming."

"A loving mother wouldn't do this to her children," Ron argued. "Abandoning them."

"I was thinking shared custody," Hermione sat down on the couch. "Rose, that's simple. Half of each holiday with me and half with you – we can iron out the details of that later. Hugo isn't going to Hogwarts until the year after next, though, so that's a bit more complicated what with Starter School -"

"Are you _insane_?" Ron said, his voice going up an octave at the last word. His eyes bugged out. "Talking about this like it's… like it's… business or something. We said together forever and for better or worse – this is worse, 'Mione, you just can't leave me!"

"Why not?" Hermione replied, her face darkening. "You left me. When I had the miscarriage I was a wreck, and you just weren't there. You barely cared at all!"

Ron ignored her, his face serious. "You can't have the kids! They're Weasleys."

"And Grangers," Hermione picked up her tea again, noticing that it was stone cold. "You can't claim them as Weasleys just because they have red hair. They're my children, too, and shared custody is fair, provided you can show more fatherly attributes then you've shown lately. You're not going to fight me over custody, are you?"

"I'd win," said Ron. "With the stuff the _Daily Prophet_ wrote, and how mad the kids are at you -"

Hermione fixed her eyes on him. "Ron, you won't fight me for custody of the kids. You _won't_. However screwed up you are at the moment, however bad our marriage is, you're a good person. I loved you for more than twenty years, I should know. Shared custody – please?"

Ron looked like he was in shock. He ran his hands through his messy red hair. Idly, Hermione noticed he was starting to grey – well, redheads did go grey earlier. "Alright," he said finally. "But I have conditions."

"Conditions?"

"Uh huh, otherwise I hire a lawyer and fight." Ron said, looking more confident. "One, you don't tell the kids – don't tell _anyone_ – about my debts." Hermione nodded before he'd even finished saying it.

"Ron, you know I'd never -"

"Secondly," he continued without pausing, "No finding anyone else – no _dating_ anyone else – for at least a year." He smiled, pleased with that condition because he was absolutely certain it would take a lot less than a year to convince her they were supposed to be together. Hermione couldn't live without him, he was sure. "I'll do the same, of course." Hermione hesitated, so Ron ploughed on. "Besides anything else, the kids will need that long to get used to it. It would be just wrong to move on quicker."

"Fine," Hermione said steadily. Draco wasn't hers, he'd made that very clear. She wasn't losing anything, except that tiny sliver of hope. It wasn't like Hermione had even decided to start dating after the divorce, and certainly not in the next year!

"Thirdly," Ron thought for a second. "One last time together -"

"Not a chance in hell, Ron," Hermione said flatly. "Really. No. I don't even think you're serious about that, because we both know you'd hate to sleep with someone who was only being blackmailed into it."

"Fine. Just the first two, then," Ron replied. "Er… how long will it take for the divorce to come through?" He was hoping for longer, to give Hermione time to come to her senses. Clearly, this was a mid-life crisis, and he should just accept it for now, and make fun of her for it later when she finally came home. He gave it a couple of weeks.

Hermione sighed, unthinkingly taking a sip of her cold, scummy tea and then nearly spitting it out. "A month, maybe two, maybe longer. It depends on which person we get – Simmons is the best for quick divorces, but the person is chosen at random to prevent favouritism. Let's just hope we don't get Judy Gauldings, she's done some of my divorce cases and made them go through a months worth of couples' counselling." Hermione winced at the idea. "Very old-school, anti-divorce." She suddenly beamed at Ron. "I'm so happy you're taking all this so well… so calmly. It's very mature of you, Ron. I'll share the burden of the current debts with you, as well, since we were together when they happened."

Ha, thought Ron cluelessly. She's already thinking she's making a mistake! "It's fine," he said casually. "I mean, it hurts, greatly, that we're divorcing," he added hurriedly, making exaggerated puppy dog eyes, "But if it's what you want… I love you too much to say no to anything you feel you want."

"Right," said Hermione, suspicious. "Okay then… the meeting's Thursday next week, twelve o'clock, I'll owl you the location after I find out. Thanks for handling this so brilliantly, Ron. I will absolutely follow your conditions – no talking about your debts, no dating, see? Memorised them already." She stopped, struck by an idea. "Oh, and we should get Rose from the train together, and then explain everything to her and Hugo. You know. Together."

"Okay," Ron said obediently. "Wait, what day is Rose coming back?"

Hermione huffed impatiently. "Day after tomorrow. You're not working then, are you?"

"Yes, I am," Ron lied. He didn't want to be there when Hermione told the kids, because that might give them the idea he was okay with it. If he wasn't there, he deduced cleverly, they would assume it was all Hermione's fault – which it _was_, pretty much – and might emotionally blackmail her into changing her mind. He also didn't want to give her the idea that leaving him would be easy – otherwise she might do it again whenever she got annoyed, after she came back to him this first time. "You'll have to pick up Rosie."

DDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDDD

Draco lay in bed, wide awake. It was late morning – in fact, his shift was starting in about ten minutes – but he still couldn't bring himself to move. What the hell had he been _thinking_, contacting Astoria again? It was like deliberately infecting yourself with malaria.

Well, he hadn't been thinking, really. Not about Astoria, anyway. Draco groaned and buried his head in his pillow as he pictured Hermione's anxious, concerned face. Concerned about her husband. Concerned about the Weasel. Savagely, he pictured them together now – in bed enjoying make-up sex, flying kites with Hugo, or just holding each other and talking about the future. How did the Weasel always manage to get what Draco wanted most?

At least he'd been able to make her hurt before she went back to her cosy life. The sight of her face when she saw him and Astoria had filled him with vicious exultation – _now_ she knew what it felt like, to watch as the person you loved chose someone else over you.

The more evolved part of Draco felt guilty about that. Twenty years of remorse and trying to be a better person had disappeared completely when Hermione said she couldn't leave her husband. All he'd wanted was to hurt her, to make her feel the same pain. He still wanted that, a little. She had hurt him so badly, saying she loved him and then staring at him with her big brown eyes like the idea of them being together was ridiculous. Draco had lost it, went completely overboard, acted worse then he had for years. Ordering her out of the house… Astoria… what he'd said… Draco felt sick with shame for what he'd done.

Dumbledore had been wrong. He was like his father.

Huh? Draco wondered where that thought had come from. With it had been an image – Dumbledore, in the sun, smiling at him, leaning so that their faces were the same height. Which was ridiculous – Dumbledore had never spoken to him with affection. Draco wasn't even sure they'd ever spoken one-on-one, except on the night Dumbledore had died.

It was time to get up. Time to go heal people, fix them like he'd never quite been able to fix himself. And after that? Well, after that he would figure out a way to leave Hermione _Weasley_ behind forever.


	25. Stationary

Harold was practically dancing around the room. "Clean better, Clinky!" he bawled. "Clean, clean, clean! Dilby, what is you thinking? Clean the ceiling too! Master Scorpy is back again!" he brightened even more as Draco came down the stairs. "Is you going to fetch him now, Master Draco?"

"Sometimes you scare me, Harold," Draco informed him. "But yes, I am. Want to come?"

"It is not a house-elf's place," Harold said primly. "Besides, if I don't watch Dilby and Clinky they is missing spots. They is always missing spots!"

Clinky nodded with her usual subservience, but Dilby mimed throwing the duster at his uncle, which made Draco smile. "Fine, then, I'm going. I'll be back soon, okay?"

It was such a nice day that Draco decided to walk part of the way instead of just apparating. The late snow of the other week had completely melted, and though the air was still cool, it was now well and truly spring, and nearly Easter as well. Scorpy had instructed his father in a short letter not to bother with an Easter egg hunt, because he was too old for that stuff now, but Draco knew his son well enough that he'd already bought the chocolate eggs.

Draco might make fun of Harold's enthusiasm for Scorpius' return, but to be honest he was thrilled too. He really missed his son when Scorp wasn't there, and didn't know how he'd manage without the holidays. Hermione had once told him that she'd hardly ever holidayed with her parents during her time at Hogwarts, and that she hadn't realised how hurtful that must have been until she'd had children…

_Damn it_! Hermione kept creeping into his mind, just when he was so determined to cut her out. The pain was still there, no matter how well he was faking normality. All along his hope had been that when Hermione finally realised they loved each other, she'd leave her husband. Instead, she'd still decided to stay with him. And that was it for Draco's hopes: the end, kaput, game over. He wasn't going to see Hermione Weasley ever again.

Well, unless she was picking up Rose today. Then he'd see her… unconsciously, Draco quickened his pace.

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Rose Weasley stared down at the jewellery in her hands. She didn't want it at all – it was old, and ugly, and frankly boring. But it was the most interesting thing in her carriage by far: there was no one else there.

Since she'd first yelled at Scorpy for having a jerk as a father, and he'd returned with some rather too-detailed insults about her mother, Rose and her friends had hardly spoken. As Slytherin boys, they naturally took the side of one of their own. As a result she felt very lonely, and very angry with her mother.

Rose didn't blame her mother for wanting to leave her father, at least not completely. She may have been only eleven but she was bright enough to know her parents didn't have the perfect marriage. Rose could even see how some of her father's actions could annoy her mother – especially over the last year, when their usual loud arguments had switched to silence, glares and subtle barbs. What Rose did blame her mother for was screwing up her relationship with her friends. While Albus, who was very fond of his cousin, now allowed Rose to spend time with him and his friends, it just wasn't the same. She knew they only tolerated her because of Albus.

The other day Rose had tried to talk to Link, at least wanting him to still be her friend. Somehow they'd got into an argument as well, Link accusing her of making him choose between his friends and her. Rose had replied she thought she _was_ a friend – in fact, she'd even said he was like a brother to her. Somehow that had angered him even more. Eventually, Rose had stormed off crying into the forest, even though she knew it was dangerous.

Rose had accidentally stumbled upon a clearing filled with hoof-prints – probably from centaurs, she surmised. In order to distract herself, she studied one of them to see if it really was a centaur's, and then realised something metallic had been crushed into the ground by one of them. The very same old, damaged and ugly piece of jewellery she was staring at now.

Perhaps Hugo will want it, for his games with Lily, Rose decided. It _does_ look like the sort of thing an evil sorceress would wear. She shoved it in her pocket, bored.

Suddenly Rose heard someone clearing their throat at the door. She expected it to be Albus, but when she looked up it was Scorpy. "What is it?" Rose said wearily. "Wanna say something else mean?"

Scorpy fidgeted, looking ill at ease. "No, actually, I wanted to apologise. This… fighting thing… I don't like it."

"Me neither," Rose smiled, thrilled.

"Exactly. I mean, who cares if our parents are… well… er…" Scorpy, who was normally the most unshakeable one of them, flailed around. "I just mean, that means we might even be brother and sister sometime."

Rose frowned at him. "No, we won't. I think they're just friends. Hugo's silly, he always overreacts."

"So you didn't overreact at all?" Scorpy smirked at her.

Rose felt her cheeks go hot, remembering the ridiculous letter she'd sent. "Oh, all right, I did. But so did you!" Suddenly Rose recalled what else she wanted to know. "Why's Link mad at me, too? Rob won't tell me."

Scorpy smirked again. "He just got mad when you said he was like your brother," he said, waiting for her to get it. Link's silly crush on Rose creeped Scorpy out – they were way to young for that stuff. Rose was all right. Scorpy supposed, but she was still a _girl_.

Rose looked offended. "Hugo isn't that bad! It wasn't supposed to be an insult."

"For a smart person, you're an idiot, Rose," Scorpy said, almost fondly. "Come on, shove up, you're taking up the whole carriage. ROB! LINK! COME ON, WE MADE UP!" The other two piled in, Rob looking happy and Link still looking mad. Rose decided she'd apologise to him later – or maybe she should just wait for him to get over it.

Right now, Rose just relaxed and enjoyed the presence of her friends. These few days without them had been painful, and lonelier than she'd thought possible.

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"Cheer up, George," Angelina said, squeezing her husband's hand. "Aren't you looking forward to seeing Roxy again? And Victoire said she'd stay for a while, too, since she hasn't seen us in a while." She gave him an encouraging smile, and then realized she was treating him like a five-year-old and dropped the act.

"Of course," George replied absent-mindedly. He was staring off into the distance – to the other parents it must have looked like he was trying to be the first to see the train, but Angelina knew he wasn't paying attention to anything really.

She interlaced her fingers with his, enjoying the contrast like she always did – his pale skin, so typical of the redheaded, on her black skin. "It's a shame Fred's not coming home too, but -"

"Fred?" George said wildly, his head jerking up. Then he flushed, recognizing his mistake.

It took Angelina a second to understand. "Our _son_ Fred," she said, feeling cold. "What's the matter with you, George? It was _nineteen years ago -_"

"He was my other half," George returned to staring into the distance, not even realising that it was a term most men used to describe wives. Angelina flinched despite herself.

"Yes, but you were fine! _We_ were fine! You love the store, it's doing brilliantly, we have two wonderful children!" Angelina despaired. "This… this _depression _thing isn't you at all. It hasn't been for years - Snap out of it, George. Please."

"I can't," George said quietly. He closed his eyes. "Fred is _out_ _there_, somewhere, he spoke to Hugo and he didn't… didn't say _anything_, really… I just can't… never mind."

"That was always the way you were, the two of you," Angelina replied, more sympathetically. "Everything was a joke, remember? If Fred _is_ out there, I doubt he'd send a serious and well-thought-out missive."

"You're right," George said, but Angelina got the impression she'd lost him again. He turned his head away from her. Screw subtlety, Angelina thought angrily, it really wasn't her style at all. She dope-slapped the back of his head hard. "_OW_! What the _hell_ was that for?"

"Pure enjoyment," Angelina said sarcastically, aware that a lot of the other waiting parents were now watching them, either concerned or laughing – well, except Hermione, who seemed to be deep in conversation with that brat-turned-life-saver Draco Malfoy. Angelina wondered if there really was something to the newspaper article. "Live in _this_ world, you idiot. Yeah, losing Fred sucked, and it sucked more for you than the rest of us. But you came to terms with it years ago! Fred is dead, you aren't. Let it _go_."

Angelina wasn't sure if she imagined hearing her husband say quietly "I can't." again as the train finally arrived.

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At the same time as Angelina was losing patience with her husband, Draco and Hermione were talking. As soon as they'd gotten there, Hugo had sped off to talk to Lily, still not talking to his mother. That's when Hermione had seen Draco and been unable to stop herself coming over. Part of her loved him; part of her hated him, mainly for Astoria. She felt unreasonably betrayed by that.

"Better not come to close to me, _Mrs Weasley_, or your husband might divorce you," Draco said sarcastically, putting emphasis on her name. "And I know how _desperate_ you are that you stay together."

"Stop it, Draco, please," Hermione said miserably. She shouldn't have come over. She'd already accepted it was going to be a bad day – telling the kids about the divorce. Also, she had owled Ron and made a condition of her own. Hermione wasn't telling anybody else about his gambling but their children deserved to know. Ron, being Ron, had said that since it was _her_ idea to tell them the truth _she_ should tell them. Oh, what a wonderful homecoming for Rose.

"How can I?" Draco replied roughly. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, but I'm even more sorry that_ you _hurt _me_."

"That's selfish," snapped Hermione. "Really selfish."

Draco gave a mirthless laugh. "No, it's not. I'm sorrier that I'm hurt, because I'm _more_ hurt. I loved you more than you loved me, clearly."

"Bullshit," Hermione returned, incensed. "Don't play the martyr. You don't know what I feel."

"Really," Draco drawled. "How… _adolescent_ a thing to say. But I do know what you feel. I know you love me, because you said it -" Hermione tried to tell him to keep his voice down, but he kept talking over her. " – but I know it's not as much. Because _you _chose someone else."

Hermione couldn't help wringing her hands. "Our kids are friends. Can you at least _act_ like you don't hate me?" she challenged.

"Hate you?" Draco breathed, his face suddenly very close. Hermione could feel his breath on her lips. She shivered against her will. "How could I possibly hate you?" He reached up a hand to touch her face, and then dropped it. "Oh, right, now I remember. Because you're a liar. The Weasel's honest, he wants you and gambling. I'm honest, I want – sorry, _wanted _– you, forever. Astoria's honest too, she wants to be Lady Malfoy and have bags of cash." Draco snorted. "But you? You can't decide. You want Weasel, you want me, you love me, you choose him -"

"I've left Ron," Hermione blurted out. "We're getting a divorce."

Draco stopped and gaped at her. His face split into a grin, the first one Hermione had ever seen him smile. "For real? So that means… you chose me?"

"We can't be together," Hermione said hurriedly, trying to explain. "I just… I promised Ron… I mean, we can't -"

Draco straightened again, his smile disappearing. "Ah. I understand. You didn't choose me. You also didn't choose him. You chose yourself, am I right, Hermione?"

"It's my life," Hermione said shakily. "I have the _right_ to choose myself. Don't try and make me a bad person because of it, Draco. But, no, I did choose you. Sort of. I mean, after what you said -"

"You mean, after I was a bastard to you, you decided I was 'The One'?" Draco said incredulously. "_Damn_ you must have wanted me at school then. Really, 'Mione, you refuse me when we're happy and semi-naked and in love, and then you leave the Weasel after we break each others hearts?"

"I left Ron," Hermione said steadily. "Because what you did to me hurt far more than anything he can do. And that sounds like a reason to stay with him, but it isn't, because feelings are important and if he can't make me sad he can't really make me happy, either." She saw Draco's expression soften a little. "We – I mean – all I said was I wouldn't see anyone else for a while. Couldn't we, in secret, maybe -"

Draco took a step back from her. "All hail the queen of the liars," he said sardonically. "So your solution is that we have a secret affair? Or is it that we have a secret friendship? I distrust any relationship that starts with the word 'secret'. If you want someone, you should agree to have all of them, not just the parts that are convenient. Who's the lying Slytherin now? Where's your Griffindor bravery when it comes to this?"

"It would just be for a while, the secret part," Hermione pleaded. "Then we could be together properly… I mean, maybe. I don't know. After that stunt with Astoria -"

"So now I'm waiting around for you to decide when I'm worthy?" Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And then what? When I'm worthy enough we have a secret affair, and _then_ when I'm even more worthy we have a real relationship? I want to be happy again, Hermione, I want to be in love and happy and open about it all. I'm not settling for half because you're ashamed of being seen with me." They heard the train's horn blow. "And look, there's the train. Got to go – contact me when you're _actually_ willing to choose me. Or, you know, don't, because by then I hope to have moved on." Draco stalked away to find his son.

Hermione stared after him, even more confused then before. Was he in the right, or was she? She couldn't tell. "Mum!" a yell came from behind her. "_MUM_!"

Hermione whirled around and hugged Rose. "Sweetie, you're back! And you're talking to me! After your letter -"

"That was stupid, Mum," Rose said, clinging to her mother. "I should of known you wouldn't do anything like that -" Rose cut herself off. "You _aren't_ with Scorpy's father, are you? You're still with Dad?"

Hermione hesitated. "We'll talk later, Rosie, I promise. You guys deserve to be kept in the loop. I brought the car today, come on, let's go."

It was a much shorter reunion than last time. Very quickly, Rose and Hugo were installed in the car. The both hopped in the back, used to their father taking the front. Also, Hugo was still angry at his mother, and Rose was stressing about what Hermione had said. What did she have to talk to them about?

Suddenly Rose remembered what she'd found for Hugo. "Hey, Hugo," she said softly, delving in her pocket. "I found this in the Forbidden Forest and I thought you'd like it."

Hugo looked at it as his sister placed it in his hands. "I'm a boy. We don't wear rings."

Rose shrugged. "I thought for your games with Lily, maybe it'd be useful."

"I guess," Hugo said ungraciously. Then he smiled openly. "I mean it, Rosie. It's awesome. Even if guys don't wear rings."

"You're welcome," said Rose, smiling back. "Weird, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Hugo peered closely at it. "Who'd wear this? I mean, it's really huge, and square, and black. And there's this huge crack down the middle, not to mention all these weird scratches on it. Maybe it was part of a play or something."

"That's what I thought," Rose was pleased to have thought of it first. "Because it looks so evil-sorceressy. But who would put on plays in the Forbidden Forest?"

Hermione, distracted by London traffic as much as by what she was going to have to tell her kids, didn't even hear their quiet conversation. Which is how she remained completely unaware that one of her children was in possession of a deathly hallow.

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**Bear with me here. Unlikely coincidence, Hugo getting the ring? Absolutely! But the Potterverse is built off unlikely coincidences!**

**I've gotten some of the loveliest reviews ever recently, and I'm really grateful for them. Thanks to everyone who's written stuff about my story, especially the nice ones!**


	26. Discoveries

"Mum, where are we?' Rose said uncertainly, stepping out of the car. They'd stopped outside a small house, almost dwarfed by the trees and vines that had grown around and over it. It was very dark, cool and shady, even in this warmer weather. There was hardly any grass at all – just an abundance of wildlife that made the yard into a miniature forest.

Hermione paused. "Didn't Ron tell you that we… er… we don't live in the house any more? He said he got special permission to go to Hogwarts and explain."

"No," Rose said, sounding shaken. "No one told me. I mean, Hugo and you kept talking about Dad being with Grandma and Grandpa Weasley, and you being with Scorpy's father, but I thought… well, I don't know. That it was just you and Dad arguing or something."

"Right," Hermione resolved to have a very serious talk with Ron very soon. He had no right to leave her to explain this – both the house and the divorce – to their children. "Well, this is our new home, I've signed a lease. Come on inside – I haven't bought furniture yet, but I will."

"Why did you get rid of our house?" Rose said shrilly, sounding near tears. "You didn't even wait for me to _be_ here. Mum, how could you -" Hugo continued ignoring both of them, visibly sulking.

Hermione cracked. "Okay, both of you, inside, now," she said quietly. "I'll explain there. No more questions till then." She suddenly realized that she'd been letting her children walk all over her recently – guilty about how bad things were with their father. Well, no more. They weren't adults, but the magical world made people grow up faster, because of the consequences immaturity could cause. They were old enough to know the truth – well, most of the truth. About Ron's gambling and her decision to leave, anyway. Since there was nothing with Draco, there didn't seem much point telling them about him; and since she was leaving Ron anyway Hermione decided she wouldn't explain the horrible insults he'd dealt her. But they could at least move from the G version to the PG.

"Okay, guys," Hermione said once they were all sitting down. Hugo, slumped in the couch opposite, gave her a death glare, and Hermione decided this time to return it. Hugo looked away first and then sat up a bit straighter. "Your father and I haven't been getting along well for a long time. It's nothing to do with either of you – we love you _so much_. It isn't anything to do with Draco Malfoy, either -" after all, it _had_ started before that, "It's just one of the things that can happen when a couple has been together a long time. This isn't my fault, and it isn't Ron's, though we've both made some mistakes."

"So… you're separating?" Rose said, sounding a bit stunned.

"Divorcing," Hermione corrected gently. "But we'll both still be here for you and love you just as much -"

"Yeah, right," said Hugo. He slumped back down, also looking very close to tears.

"Is this why you sold the house?" A single tear ran down Rose's face, and she dashed it away angrily. "Without even waiting? So you and Dad can just… just… I don't know, get _bachelor's pads_ or something?"

"I _knew_ the magical termites were fake," Hugo said bitterly. "Well, no, I didn't, but I _would've_ know it if I'd thought about it."

"They were fake," Hermione said gently, directing an apologetic glance at her son, who pointedly ignored it. "But no, we didn't sell the house. We lost it."

"How do you lose a house?" Rose queried, picturing somebody searching for a mysterious disappearing house.

"It was your father -" Hermione began.

Hugo shot up. "Don't you say anything about him! This is _your_ fault, not his!"

"The divorce is probably my fault, or at least my decision," Hermione acknowledged. "But lately your father has taken to gambling."

"Like on _Las Vegas_?" Hugo's eyes went wide. "Oh, cool! Is he like that guy with the -"

Hermione's glare nearly nailed him to the wall. "I _knew_ you were watching inappropriate television with your father. That show is much too old for you -" she visibly collected herself. "Which is not important right now, though we'll be discussing it later. Yes, like on _Las Vegas_, only it's not as great as the show makes it out to be. Your father lost a great deal of money, and the people we owed took the house and some of the furniture as payment." She decided, then and there, looking at her kids' faces, that it wasn't worth mentioning the college funds. Hugo and Rose hadn't known about them anyway so it wasn't like they would be missed – and perhaps she could build them up again enough in the years until then for it never to actually matter.

"So we're broke?" Rose said slowly. "Did the house pay it all off?"

Hermione blessed her children, since their intelligence was making this much simpler than it could have been. "Not all of it, no, but a great deal. It's not something you have to worry about too much, though, your father and I will take care of it."

There was a long silence. Suddenly, Hugo got up and threw himself into Hermione's arms. "Shhh, shhh, it's okay, sweetie," she said, hugging him closely.

Rose wrapped her arms around herself. She sat like that, hugging herself, while her brother cried. She looked, Hermione thought, oddly blank, like this really didn't affect her at all. "This is your new house, then," Rose looked around. "Is it just for a while or have you bought it?"

"I'm paying it off gradually, it should take a few years," Hermione responded, stroking Hugo's head. His face was still buried in her jumper. "And it's going to be _our_ house, Rose, please, it's going to be yours and Hugo's too."

"It's not mine," Rose said simply. "Hogwarts is my home now. I had a home here and Dad lost it, I had a family and you guys wrecked it – I just, I just want to go back to Hogwarts early. I'll study or something. Please, just let me go back there." Hermione wanted to tell Rose no, no, she was being unfair, this wasn't right. But she couldn't, really.

"If you need some time to think about all these changes, I'll take you back to Hogwarts tomorrow," Hermione promised.

"I _do_ need time to think," Rose said haughtily, her face going blotchy and red. However much she'd tried to prepare for this sort of thing, Rose hadn't really believed her parents would divorce. Let alone all that stuff about gambling… what was she meant to believe in, anymore? Who was she meant to believe? "I'm gonna start thinking right now. Which one's my room?"

"Down the hall, to the left," Hermione replied sadly, and watched Rose flounce off. She'd cope, eventually; Hermione had no doubts at all about that. It was just this period of transition that was going to be difficult for them all. Hermione looked down, and saw Hugo looking up at her. His eyes were a little too bright but otherwise he looked normal, even though he was still clinging to her. "What do you think, Hugo?" Hermione said awkwardly.

"I'm sorry, Mum," Hugo hugged her even tighter. "I'm sorry I said all that stuff, I don't hate you, I love you. I was just mad."

"I know, sweetheart," Hermione said gravely. "But thank you for telling me anyway. I love you too."

"Does this mean… if it's _really_ not Draco's fault… can I be friends with him again?" Hugo smiled suddenly. "I've really missed him. I mean, I've been staying with Dad, but it just isn't the same. He won't be mad at me, will he?" He looked suddenly anxious. "For saying what I did? I thought he was trying to take you from us."

"You're my son, Hugo, nobody's ever going to be able to take you from me," – _except your father, but we have a deal – _"I'm sure Draco will forgive you. He's very fond of you, you know."

"I know," Hugo said sincerely. "He says I'm like an extra son. I like Scorpy, too, even though he hangs out with _Rose_." Hugo wrinkled his nose at the thought of people liking his bossy older sister. "Can you talk to Draco for me when you see him? And say sorry?" Hermione nodded, and Hugo relaxed, happy. Then suddenly he tensed again. "If we owe a lot of money, you could sell this weird thing Rosie found. It's really old, so it might be, like, antique or something. That's worth money, right? I've got some toys too-"

Hugo raised his hand. Hermione glanced down, smiling at her son's sweetness, and then went rigid in her seat. The ring was dark, malevolent, with a lightning crack right down the middle. Hermione had never seen the Resurrection Stone up close, but she was pretty sure that this was Cadmius Peverell's downfall right in front of her.

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Angelina was tired. As soon as they had gotten home from the station, Victoire had suggested they should go see the Potters. After sleeping so badly, getting up early, and having that argument with George, frankly Angelina wished she could just lie down again.

But no, here they were, driving again. Well, Victoire was driving. Badly.

"_Watchoutwatchoutwatchout!_" Angelina yelped as her niece nearly overturned the car in a ditch. "Tory, Tory, careful!"

"Chill out," Victoire said casually, swivelling her head to look Angelina in the face. Though Victoire had gotten a slight French accent from her mother, she actually talked far more like an American from an exchange year when she was fifteen. "I haven't, like, hit anything yet-"

"EYES ON THE ROAD!" Angelina hid her eyes. Normally, she was brilliant with high speeds, like in Quidditch, but the muggle motorway terrified her.

"Roxy, you want me to put some music on?" Victoire said, ignoring Angelina and turning to the back.

Roxy, distracted by a game of corners with George, just said "Yeah, whatever," and giggled. She thought her older cousin was very cool. George slammed into her at that moment as the car swerved again – Victoire had put her head down to look at radio stations and wasn't really paying attention to the steering. Angelina grabbed the wheel and glared at her husband, who'd been acting a lot more like his old self since Roxy had arrived. Tricking his wife into taking the front seat, magicking the car a much brighter colour, and playing corners with Roxy – all were signs that Roxy's arrival had helped.

However, Angelina was still going to kill him for not warning her about Victoire's driving. And why was it so urgent for Victoire to see the Potters' anyway?

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"Yes, Uncle Harry, Dominique and Louis are fine!" Victoire snapped, shaking back her long blonde hair. Though she was only one-eighth veela, she was still extremely attractive, just like her younger sister and brother. Louis, in fact, often sulked about his almost-feminine beauty. "But you know I didn't take you aside to talk about them. Where is 'e?"

Harry adjusted his glasses nervously. Even from the kitchen he could still hear the voices of James, Roxy, Albus, Ginny and George, raised in laughter. Damn, he wished he was still there. "Listen, if this is about Teddy -"

"Merlin, Uncle 'Arry!" Victoire cried. Her eyes flashed and her accent increased like it always did when she was upset. She had, after all, spent a large portion of her life in France. "Of course this is about Teddy. One day he's all, oh, Victoire, we are in love, forever. Then we 'ave _une querelle ridicule_ and 'e is sending me letters saying he doesn't want me, _je ne vous aime pas_, just because I said _non_ to his _offre de ma-_" Victoire cut herself off, breathing hard. "I am sorry, I'm slipping into French. Where is 'e?"

"He's staying here, yes, but he's normally elsewhere," Harry said honestly. "He works very hard for his job." Of course, neither Harry nor Ginny had believed that ridiculous excuse, but he wouldn't tell them the truth. He thought Hermione knew something, but she wasn't telling. "I'll tell him you dropped by, though, Tory." Victoire growled under her breath, and Harry couldn't help remembering full veelas and how terrifying they could be. He spared a moment's pity for Teddy before concentrating the rest on his niece. "It'll all work out, you know. My first girlfriend and I -"

Victoire interrupted. "Yes, yes, family wisdom. Tell me some other time when I'm in less of a stew about that _bâtard_." She saw Harry's expression, and hugged him. "Sorry, Uncle Harry, I am grateful. Please, do tell that- tell Teddy I dropped by. It isn't fair of me to take my anger out on you." Suddenly Victoire's face crumpled as she stepped away from Harry. "I just love him so much. And I thought… never mind."

The doorbell rang right next to where they were standing, and Harry grabbed it and opened it quickly, eager for anything that interrupted this awkward conversation. Hermione stepped in, looking shocked about something. "Harry, grab Ginny," she ordered crisply, "I don't want her feeling left out, and we have to talk. In private. _Now_. I left Hayley minding Rose and Hugo." She hung her cloak up. Harry, knowing that expression from days of old, went into the other room to grab Ginny away from a fascinating conversation about the tactics of the Griffindor Quidditch team. He also deposited a confused and intrigued Victoire there on his way past.

"None of you come near this room," Harry called out decisively once the three were installed in the room upstairs. "I have the door alarmed with magic, so you know I'll know!"

"Way to play it cool," Hermione said snidely, then forced herself to relax a bit. "Sorry. I just… Hugo's got the ring. Well, I'm not sure, I only ever saw it from a distance, and only a couple of times. That's why I came to get you." She looked at Harry's blank face. "The ring. The Resurrection Stone. You said you dropped it in the forest, and it looks like Rose found it there – well, maybe. She wouldn't talk to me, and I didn't want to make a big deal out of it in case they realised something was up with the ring."

"Did you bring it?" Harry said quietly. Ginny put an arm around him, and after a second's thought, squeezed Hermione's shoulder. Hermione knew it was her old friend's way of assuring her that their last fight was at least partially forgiven.

Hermione shook her head. "No. Too many people come in and out of your house, I figured it was safer in my new house until we figured out what to do. If it even _is_ the ring."

"So you just left it with Hugo?" Ginny said incredulously. "A nine-year-old?"

"Of course not," Hermione snapped. "I put it in the safe deposit box there. You know, the big one? Only some family members know the combinations, and not any of the children, so it should be safe while we figure out what to do. If -"

"I know, you've said, if it _is_ the Resurrection Stone," Harry said absent-mindedly, clearly thinking hard. "I can't think what else it could be, though, unless it's a reproduction. You aren't stupid enough to grab any old ring and panic, 'Mione."

"What do we do with it?" Hermione said. "I can't decide. Destroy it? Hide it again? Use it? Should people _have_ the power to raise the dead, even temporarily?"

Harry hesitated, and then shrugged. "I don't know. I chose to hide it. You know that."

"I think you were right," Ginny said loyally. "So, let's hide it again. Somewhere better now. Hogwarts has too many children to hide it there, I think this proves that."

"Give it to the Ministry?" Hermione suggested. Then she ducked her head when both of the others glared at her.

"I think -" Harry began.

It took them nearly fifteen minutes of discussion to reach the decision to hide it by weighting it down, flying over the middle of the ocean and dropping it. Harry didn't feel it was right to destroy it – after all, somebody else might someday reunite the Hallows. It seemed selfish to think that he was the only one with that kind of destiny.

However, it proved not to be an issue. When the three of them finally got there and opened the safe – Hugo and Hayley thinking they were insane – it was completely empty. The ring was nowhere to be seen.

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**So, what do you think? Please R&R. Sorry there's no Draco.**


	27. One More Chance

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Victoire said, swanning into Teddy's room without knocking or anything. "You _know_ I wanted to talk to you."

Teddy was so shocked he nearly fell off his bed. "_Victoire_? What are _you_ doing here?"

Victoire snorted. "Oh, now 'e is surprised!"

Teddy had always loved Victoire's bizarre range of mixing accents. He used to tease her about them, telling her to pick one race and be done with it, instead of being the only person he knew with an English/American/French accent. "Of course I'm surprised. We broke up."

"_We_ broke up?" Victoire questioned, sitting down on the foot of the bed. "I don't recall sending you a letter saying -" with a small amount of ceremony, she pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolded it. "_Dear Vicky, I don't love you anymore. We're over. Sincerely, Teddy_. I mean, what the hell? A _year_, Teddy, we were together a year! I deserve better than this. Anyone deserves better than this."

"Sorry," Teddy said sarcastically. "I just didn't think you'd care, otherwise you wouldn't have -"

"Oh, we are back to that!" Victoire stood up. "Teddy, you know that I didn't want to hurt you -"

"Well you did," Teddy said. The unspoken _and now I'm hurting you_ was heard by both of them.

Victoire's nostrils flared. "So that's what this is about? Revenge?"

"No," Teddy replied, a little too quickly. "Of course not. I've just fallen in love with someone else."

Victoire, who had been pacing the small room, swung around at that. "_What_?"

"She's my soul mate," Teddy explained, warming to his topic. "We're very bonded. I spend all my time with her. It's like we were meant to be." Victoire's paling face gave Teddy some vicious pleasure. Serves her right, he thought. She didn't love me enough.

Victoire's voice shook. "_Non, non,_ Teddy, you wouldn't do zis! We love each ozzer. You told me it would be forever… that you'd never love anybody else."

"That was before I met Hayley," Teddy said.

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George Weasley was sitting alone in the room he shared with his wife. She was out, of course. So were the children. As far as anyone knew, he was at work – well, except the people there, who thought he'd called in sick. It wasn't a great cover but it would have to do.

He had it, right there, in his hands. The power to see Fred again. When he'd finally gotten the extendable ear through the door, George had nearly had a heart attack at the sound of what they were saying. _The power to raise the dead, even temporarily…_ Hermione certainly was one of the brightest witches in England, and George suspected it wouldn't be long at all before she was knocking on his door.

Of course, he would hide it, then. He couldn't give it up. He had to see Fred.

As soon as George heard what they were arguing over and where it was, he'd rushed downstairs and told Angelina he'd been called by work. It had been simple magic to get into Hermione's new home unseen – finding out what he suspected none of the others knew, that Hermione had a room all to herself. Nowhere were there any signs she intended Ron to move in. Perhaps he could blackmail her with that when she tried to take back the ring? But no, that was wrong, and bad, and evil, and it wouldn't work anyway because if she and Ron were divorcing she'd have to tell everyone eventually.

George realised idly that he was shivering. He rubbed his thumb over the cracked head of the ring. In the stories, it was turned three times, so George did that. _Fred… Fred… please, Fred, c'mon…_

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Hayley plunked herself down in the chair opposite Teddy. "All right, I'm here. What's so urgent that you needed me to come to a café a ten o'clock at night?"

"Nothing," Teddy said, clearly trying to be casual. He kept turning his head as if looking for something. "You're late, by the way."

"You said to get here as soon as I could," Hayley said, puzzled. Lately she thought she and Teddy had come to a sort of agreement – they acted like friends, and that made the awkwardness of his stalking much less. Maybe he had been viewing that as encouragement, like Hermione said, but Hayley couldn't help it. "What's up?"

"Nothing, I told you." Teddy kept craning his head, looking everywhere. Finally he must have seen whatever he was looking for, because he grabbed Hayley's neck, pulled her close, and kissed her.

It wasn't in any way a sweet, innocent kiss, either. It was the kind of kiss you gave someone you were having sex with, and Hayley certainly couldn't remember doing _that_. How they were sat prevented her from stopping him as he deepened the kiss, even though she struggled. Finally she managed to break away. "Teddy… what the hell… was _that_?" she panted.

"Just wanted to show you how much I love you," Teddy said saccharinely, now turning his head every way again. He was beginning to remind Hayley of a giant, very excited cockatiel.

A broken laugh from the left made Hayley turn her head. A young woman was standing there, beautiful and blonde in the café half-light. She looked like a goddess, which would have made Hayley hate her if it wasn't for the very clear pain in the girl's eyes. Hayley wanted to hug her and protect her. "Show _her_, or show _moi_?" Victoire said, her voice a half-sob. "This is what you invited me here for? I thought you wanted to _réconciliez_, and you just wanted to hurt me?"

"I wanted to show you that I've moved on," Teddy replied. Hayley wondered if he realised his eyes were turning paler and his hair blonde. "I don't love you anymore."

"No, we're not -" Hayley began, but both of them ignored her completely.

From the look of complete devastation on Victoire's face, Hayley expected the girl to crumble. Instead, if anything, she stood straighter. "Message received, Teddy," she started backing away, anger in her eyes. "I'm going back to France, right now. You enjoy your moving on, and I will enjoy mine."

"I will," Teddy said smoothly, trying to wrap an arm around Hayley. She twisted it brutally. "Ow, ow!"

"I'm going home," Hayley said, fed up with Teddy. Worst of all was the little bit of her heart that felt broken – it felt like he was using her. Which was stupid, because they weren't even a couple! She just didn't want to be part of this little game of his.

"Good idea," Teddy agreed, trying to smirk at Victoire. Since he wasn't the natural smirker his cousin Draco was, he just looked creepy, but it's the thought that counts. "Let's go."

Victoire glared at them both, then made a funny sobbing noise. "Bye, Teddy," she choked out. "Goodbye. I hope I never see you again!"

The second she disappeared, Hayley rounded on Teddy. "My apartment, now," she said through gritted teeth. "Unless you want to do this in public, you son of a bitch." She grabbed his arm and apparated back to just outside her apartment. As soon as they were inside Hayley slammed the door, and then slapped Teddy hard across the face. "Don't tell me you don't deserve that," she said, breathing hard. "Your relationship with that girl and how you treat her should be none of my business, but you brought _me_ into it now. What the hell was that?"

"I was helping her move on," Teddy lied.

"Bull_shit_! You were hurting her, on purpose," Hayley said. "And you're clearly in love with her."

"What?" Teddy tried to laugh it off, still holding his sore cheek. "Are you jealous? Hayley, there's nothing -"

"Don't insult my intelligence," Hayley warned him. "I've never been in love, but I do know that the people we hurt most are always the ones we love. Family, close friends, lovers. You love her."

"Do not!"

"Oh, enter the five-year-old," snapped Hayley. "Did you know whenever you get lost in thought your hair goes white-blonde? I didn't really think about it until I saw your ex, but that's why, isn't it? You're thinking about her. You must love her very much, to want to hurt her that badly."

Teddy looked away. "I was crazy about her for a very long time. But that doesn't mean… love doesn't always have to be about hurting the other person, you know."

"It isn't _about_ hurting the other person, but that's what it normally causes," Hayley collapsed on the couch. "And that's what that was. What did she do to you to make you so angry? I mean, she's clearly in love with you too."

"No, she's not," Teddy's eyes turned black. "And I don't love her."

"What are you, blind?" Hayley gave a bitter laugh. "You've been here for months, hanging around my place, telling me you're crazy about me. I've rejected you literally hundreds of times, and it's never hurt you. Not even a bit."

"Sure it has -"

"No, it hasn't, because you don't love me. You love her. And of course she loves you." Hayley rolled her eyes. "I mean, at the moment I'm wondering why, but from the way she reacted I'd say she's _crazy in love with you_."

"No, she's _not!_" Teddy roared, getting truly angry for the first time in front of Hayley. His hair became black and red flames, moving and flickering. "_She doesn't love me_!"

"Yes, she does!" Hayley yelled back, aware she couldn't match the fire-hair in terms of impact.

"_If she loved me, she wouldn't have said no when I -_" Teddy started to scream back, and then cut himself off abruptly. "No, she doesn't love me."

Hayley stared at him, suddenly understanding. "You asked her to marry you."

"What? No, I -" Teddy refused to meet her eyes,

"You _did_," Hayley breathed, appalled. "Teddy, you idiot, of course she said no. She's what, sixteen?"

"Nearly eighteen," Teddy said stubbornly. "She's of age. She just didn't love me enough."

"Eighteen is way too young to marry," Hayley massaged her forehead, feeling tears burn at the backs of her eyes. "This is what this has all been about, hasn't it? You wanted to get married, and she said no. So the next attractive older woman you ran into you decided was your soul mate."

"No," Teddy said, but Hayley ignored him.

"You thought, Victoria – that was her name, right? – won't marry me, but someone else will. So I'll just choose someone else as my soul mate."

"You're not making any sense," Teddy still wouldn't meet her eyes. "I love you, Hayley."

"Go after her," Hayley said abruptly. "None of this has been about me, not at all. You fixated on me since you felt rejected by the person you really loved."

"No, I didn't!"

"Yeah?" Hayley taunted. "Well, here's a mental picture for you. Your ex is beautiful – drop-dead gorgeous. So she's going to find someone else. And someday you're going to see a scene like the one you just treated her to in your juvenile revenge. Or maybe she'll find someone who _will_ wait for her to be ready before popping the question – or at least wait for her to have left school!" Hayley took a deep breath, and grabbed Teddy's face, forcing him to look at her. "I'm just in this as part of an elaborate denial. You want a reason not to be hurt, and you want to hurt her, so you're using me. I don't approve. But you _love_ her. Go after her -"

"What would I even say?" Teddy said weakly. Hayley saw fear in his eyes and realised that now he'd actually hurt his girlfriend in retaliation, some of his anger and denial had gone. His hair turned white-blonde again.

"Start with 'sorry'," Hayley said grimly. "Work your way from there."

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It was past midnight when Draco opened his door to a crying Hayley. Scorpius and the house elves were fast asleep, but Draco had stayed up signing some things for the company.

"Hay?" he said, stunned. "Oh, god, what's wrong?" Draco pulled her inside and into his study. "What's happened?"

Hayley wrapped her arms around Draco. "I wanted it to be true," she sobbed into his chest.

"Wanted what to be true?"

"Teddy," Hayley huddled in even closer to Draco. "I wanted him to really love me. I mean, I kept rejecting him, but he kept saying we were meant to be…"

"You got your hopes up," Draco said gently. "You wanted to fall in love, you wanted to have some destiny. We all want that – a perfect person arriving gift-wrapped at our front door."

"Exactly," Hayley said miserably. "I didn't _want_ to believe it at first, but he said it so often I started to think maybe it was right. Maybe he was right, and we were right, and I could be happy with him."

Draco pulled her in even tighter. "You _will_ be happy, Hayley, I know you will. You'll find someone. So exactly what happened with you and Teddy?"

"He's in love with his ex, and I was just Exhibit A to show her he could do better," Hayley gave a snuffly little laugh. "Why are guys such bastards?"

"Hey," Draco said, insulted.

Hayley ignored him. "And you know what? She'll take him back, I bet you anything. He's snubbed her for months so he can stalk me, and broken up with her, and she'll still take him back, just because he's hot. They'll be all 'I wuv oo' and they'll invite me to their wedding someday. Their _kids_ will get married, and I'll still be single."

"You can do better than some idiotic stalker who's playing games," Draco said firmly. "You can do better than damn near anyone, Hayley."

"Why?" Hayley said in a small voice. When Draco was silent for a second, she stared at him. "I mean, how do you know that? What's so great about me, really? I'm no Victoria or Hermione or -"

"You're Hayley," Draco cut her off. "You're incredible. You start conversations about sausages and make me laugh. You inspire everyone around you, just by being you. You're like," Draco struggled for the right words. "You're indefatigable. Completely unbeatable – nothing stops you, Hayley." Draco glanced down at her. This seemed to be helping, so he continued, aware that he sounded very mushy. "You're a breath of fresh air. It's like you give off light when you enter a room, sometimes, you just cheer everyone up by being there. Sometimes you're annoying or excessive, but it just comes across as charm. You charm everyone."

Hayley was silent for a moment. "Are you ever scared of ending up alone?" she whispered.

Draco glanced upwards. His son was asleep upstairs, but eventually Scorp would be long gone. He'd have family of his own. There would be Draco and the house elves, in this house, all alone. Draco felt choked by the thought of so much loneliness. "All the time."

There was another pause. "There's one thing you didn't mention," Hayley said quietly. "In your list of stuff about me. How do you think I look?"

"Blatantly looking for an ego-boost, huh?" Draco said sardonically, looking down at Hayley again. "You're beautiful, and you know it. So beautiful sometimes it's hard to look at you for long -"

Hayley cut him off with a kiss. Their arms were wrapped around each other, their bodies pressed together. The kiss was deep and wild and hard to stop.

So Draco didn't even try.

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**I know. The George thing? Cliche. The Dramione action? Nonexistent. I apologise for this chapter to all of you who are just in this for the DHr interactions. Still, R&R please, tell me what you think.**

**Also, I have to warn you that updates might be quite sketchy over the next couple of days - maybe even the next week. I've gotten the flu. I'm really sorry, i know you've gotten used to regular updates!**


	28. Truths Untold

Hayley was late.

It was hardly the first time, but Hermione was still slightly worried about her friend. Don't be stupid, Hermione told herself, glancing at the clock again. Hayley will show up soon – she _always_ shows up, filled with stories about wild nights and bizarre happenings.

It was sunny today for the first time in ages. Telling herself not to be so concerned about Hayley – after all, she didn't _technically_ have to show up for another fifteen minutes, their tradition of getting there early was an informal one – Hermione stalked over to the window and opened the curtains. "Oh, cool," Hermione breathed involuntarily, looking at the car some distance below. She knew absolutely nothing about cars, but this one was very attractive and ridiculously shiny. She suspected if she was a male muggle she'd be drooling over it. Then Hermione had to suppress a gasp as Hayley emerged from the passenger's seat, wearing yesterday's clothing and – visible even from this distance – a wicked smile.

Hayley turned her head to speak to whoever was driving the cat, and Hermione practically smooshed her face against the window to see better. Damn all pretentious cars with their tinted windows, she thought in annoyance. I want to know who Hayley's picked up now!

Hermione had to admit to herself she'd been neglecting work even more than Hayley the past few days, trying to track down all possible leads as to the theft of the ring. She had even – to her great shame – accused George of taking it, talking at him until Angelina lost her temper and told Hermione to go away. George's wrecked face was, to Hermione, ample proof that he hadn't taken the Resurrection Stone – she'd sent him flowers to apologise, and he'd thankfully forgiven her, but it dwelled on Hermione's conscience still. The whereabouts of the ring was a mystery the combined intellects of Harry, Hermione and Ginny couldn't crack.

The other door on the car started to open, and Hermione pressed her forehead against the glass. There, there – "Dammit, I should buy binoculars," muttered Hermione, before thinking about what she'd just said. "Or not." Blonde hair, Hayley's mystery man had blonde hair – white blonde – and his face was very striking –

"_DRACO?_" Hermione was absolutely stunned. Okay, she thought hopefully, maybe this isn't what it looks like. Draco chose that exact moment to sweep Hayley into an embrace and whisper something into her ear. Hayley giggled.

Okay, maybe this is _exactly_ what it looks like.

Hermione sank to the floor. I'm an idiot, she thought miserably. Draco said he was going to move on, and I told Hayley I didn't care about him, and now – oh, Merlin. I don't even have the right to be angry really; because whichever way I turn I'm the one in the wrong!

"Hey, 'Mione, let me in!" Hayley yelled cheerfully from outside the door. "You locked it again."

"Oh," Hermione said numbly. "Right. Sorry." With a quick flick of her wand she closed the curtains – no reason to let Hayley know she'd seen anything at all. "Coming!" Hermione couldn't bring herself to speak in words of more than one sentence, because she was sure if she did Hayley would know how she felt. The whirlpool of guilt and hurt and jealousy and love.

As soon as Hermione opened the door, Hayley practically bounced inside. "Hermione, you wouldn't believe how great yesterday turned out!"

"No?" Please don't give me details. I don't want details.

"Yes!" Hayley whooped, doing a little dance. "The stalker is gone. Teddy's chasing his ex all the way to the land of frogs – what's the matter, Hermione? Was that too racist for you or something? 'Cause I was just kidding. Oh, yay, the stalker's gone!"

"I thought you were getting fond of him," Hermione replied, struggling to keep her voice even.

Hayley shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll admit I was getting attached, yes, but it's like… what's that thing? Stockholm Syndrome or something? Faded right off. Teddy and I weren't meant to be."

"Well," Hermione said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "If it wasn't a wild night with Teddy, why are you still wearing yesterday's clothing?" Hermione was sure that if Hayley lied, that was proof, right there. She wondered if Hayley could hear her heartbeat – it sounded very loud to her.

"Oh, er," Hayley said lamely. "Guess I just forgot to get changed."

They both gave that pathetic excuse the minute's silence it deserved.

"So," Hayley said brightly. "What's new in your life?"

"Now _both_ the kids are going back to Hogwarts in a week," Hermione said, grasping the change of subject with relief. "Rose changed her mind about going back early. I think she's forgiven me, a bit."

"Oh, for the whole Draco thing," Hayley hesitated. "Are you still… are you still hung up on Draco?"

Part of Hermione wanted to be honest. If she said yes, Hayley would do the best-friend thing and never see Draco again – but Hermione had been too selfish too often lately. It hadn't brought anyone else happiness, but it also hadn't brought her any. I've been lying so much lately, Hermione thought dryly, but at least this time it's for something _good_. For Hayley. Maybe they'll be happy. "No," she said smoothly. "Of course not. I told you, it was just the lure of the forbidden."

"Oh," Hayley looked, weirdly, a little disappointed. "Okay. If that's how you really feel."

"Course!" Hermione turned around, grabbing a pile of papers at random. "We should probably do some work!"

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George was in the house alone again, with the ring. He was ashamed to admit it, but he couldn't stay – whenever the ghostly spirit of Fred started to appear he shook so much he dropped the ring. This was his _brother_, his _twin_, the most important person in his life. Who he hadn't seen for nineteen years. How was he supposed to face that?

Well, this time he would. He'd tied the ring around his wrist. George picked it up and turned it three times. Like normal, he trembled so badly he could barely hold it. Griffindor courage had nothing to do with emotions, really. As had happened every other time, he dropped it, but this time the string held it against his skin.

"Oh, _finally_," Fred said. He gave George a huge grin. In the brisk lighting he was slightly see-through, but otherwise exactly the same as George remembered. Time hadn't changed or impacted him – if anything, he looked younger than he had been when he died. "Wondered when you'd talk to me again. Men, they say they'll call but they never do."

George winced theatrically, and grinned back. "Oh, don't make our relationship sound so meaningless. Besides anything else, you'll fuel Angelina's desires for a twin threesome."

"Ah, that's her excuse," Fred laughed, young and vibrant. "We both know she wants me. She wants me baaad."

"Come on," George scoffed. "I'm the attractive one."

"Whatever you say, _Lugless_." Fred sat down besides his brother. George noted that although he looked exactly the same as always he seemed to have no weight. "How did you contact me?"

"Shouldn't you be all-seeing and all-knowing, great spirit? Oh, wait, I guess you've still retained your status as the dimmer twin in the afterlife," George shook his head sadly.

"What, you got the attractiveness and the brains?" Fred looked exaggeratedly wounded by this. "What did I get?"

"Pity, duh," George responded. "What've you been up to, Caspar?"

"Oh, nothing really," Fred said casually. "First I got blown up, then there was a small amount of rotting… don't look like that, George, I was _joking_. Jeez, where's your sense of humour flown to?"

George found that his throat had closed up a bit. "Well, I always thought part of it went with you," he said quietly.

"Only because you let it," Fred said stubbornly. "There was never a guarantee we were going to be a double-act forever. Just because the Spice Girls couldn't make it on their own doesn't mean we can't. You don't need me to live, George."

George gave a shaky laugh. "Now we're talking serious, huh?"

"Bit of a break from tradition, I'll admit," Fred agreed. "But I think it's necessary. What the hell are you doing? To yourself, your family, to everything? Really, Lugless. What the hell are you doing?"

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"Dijooslipwidracmafy?" Hermione blurted out. She was sitting directly opposite Hayley while they both worked their way through files. The sentence had been pressing on her for hours, becoming steadily more necessary to say.

Hayley raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Did you sleep with Draco Malfoy?" Hermione repeated, slower and softer than before. "I wouldn't blame you, Hay, I swear. I just have to know -"

Her friend seemed to weigh her words. "Why does it matter? You don't love him, you said so."

"I… that may have been… perhaps I wasn't entirely _truthful_…" Hermione babbled, aware she was being selfish again. But god, she had to _know!_

"Hah!" Hayley crowed, leaping up and doing a little dance. "Knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I totally knew it…"

"_Did you sleep with him_?" Hermione got up too, facing Hayley, her nerves in shreds.

"Of course not," Hayley said composedly. "I mean, I kissed him, that just sort of happened." Hermione fantasised briefly about attacking Hayley. "That was wrong of me, and wrong of him, and we both felt like horrible people for it. But it only went for a really little while and then we both just sort of pushed each other away at the same moment. I mean, I wouldn't do that to you, and apparently neither would he. It was really funny – we were both talking at the same time, and he was all 'I love 'Mione' and I was all 'I'm sorry but 'Mione's my best friend' and it took us nearly five minutes till we calmed down enough to realise we were in total agreement." Hayley gave a decisive nod. "Too weird. I mean, it's not just the whole sausage thing, it's also that he's got a kid. Draco said he couldn't keep doing this to Scorp – you know, moving on every five minutes. And we're friends, even though we have like nothing in common we still get along great, so it would be a shame to screw that up. And I'm friends with Scorpy too – huh, the way my love life's going, being his crazy aunt Hayley might be the closest I get to actual parenthood. Plus there's you."

"So… why did he drop you off today?" Hermione said suspiciously. "Wearing yesterday's clothes?"

"Archenland wine," Hayley said gloomily. "Terrible stuff. I got plastered and weepy, and Draco put me to bed in a spare room. Poor guy, he was all worried about Scorpy seeing me so drunk. And then he drove me to work because he thought if I apparated I'd end up in Mexico somewhere." Hayley suddenly smiled again. "Plus, have you seen his ride? _Wicked_ cool. Totally have to use it for the wedding."

"_What_? _Wedding_? Hay, no, I can't -" Hermione began.

Hayley frowned at her in disapproval. "Please. He loves you, you love him, one awesome dress and cutesy _Just Married_ slogan and you'll be on your way to happy-ever-after. Don't tell me you're going to throw this away." Hayley sat down on the floor again, picking up another load of files. "Just don't put me in puce. As your head bridesmaid, I want a cool colour."

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George had been listening in silence for some time, but now he felt moved to interrupt. "Oh, no way, mate," he expostulated. "I didn't bring you here so you could give me a list of things that I should do!"

"She's not a _thing_, George, don't objectify her," Fred said disapprovingly. "Plus, Angelina was always very reasonable. If you said it was a request from me -"

"_What_?" George yelped. "Reasonable? When I forgot her birthday, she cursed me with tentacled spiders! Angelina is not reasonable, and I am not asking her permission to try and seduce someone else. I love her."

"Fine, okay," Fred smiled again. "Actually just threw that one in to make sure you were paying attention. Haven't been paying attention to much of anything lately, have you?"

"Angelina understands," George said weakly.

"As does Roxy, no doubt," Fred responded sarcastically. "Ooh, and Fred Junior – thanks for naming a sprout after me, by the way, let's hope he takes after me and not you – he's real understanding about you hardly ever writing back to him. And the staff at the store -"

"I've been busy," snapped George.

"You mean elsewhere," Fred pointed out. "Twenty years ago, pretty much. Being all boohoo and emo about something you can't change. You aren't bringing me back, George."

"You're here _now_."

"Only until I decide to go," Fred said quietly. "And that will be soon. I didn't want to be a ghost, and I refuse to be one, even for you. The Battle of Hogwarts finished, and we won. I gave my life for us to win. Don't you make that pointless by pretending you died too." He took an unnecessary deep breath. "So, we've covered the kids, Angelina, the store. How you need to pay attention to all of them. You know what else you need?"

"What?" George said, resigned.

"Hobbies," Fred said bluntly. "Quidditch, of course. Now here's my instructions…"

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"So you're going to let Draco get away – no, wait, _push_ him away – because of what your ex-husband wants?" Hayley's brow wrinkled. "What the hell?"

"It's not that, Hay," Hermione said. "It's just I've already compromised on the only other thing Ron asked me. The kids know about his debts. I can't… I just can't ask Ron and the kids to accept Draco. I just can't."

Hayley stared at Hermione for a long moment. "Bullshit," she finally decided. "Oh, I just got it, Hermione. This is you all over."

"What?"

"You're scared," Hayley said brusquely. "Downright terrified. Your experience of love is boredom mixed with affection, but what you've got for Draco is clearly way more than that. You don't want to risk it. Nothing to do with the children or Ron – they're just your justification. _That's _why you agreed to that damn stupid condition, so you'd have an excuse." Hermione tried to object, but Hayley talked over her. "But it's more than that, otherwise you wouldn't have suggested a secret relationship. Nice touch there, by the way, thinking Draco would agree to something like that – I mean, maybe if he wasn't so _ridiculously_ in love with you, you'd have a shot -" Hayley enunciated her words clearly. "But he is. And I know why you wanted a secret relationship -"

"Oh really?" Hermione said sardonically. She crossed her arms, and then remembered that was a giveaway defensive posture and let them drop down to her sides. "Do enlighten me."

Hayley ignored her snideness. "You're afraid of failing in secret with Draco, 'cause then you'll get hurt. But failing in public? Nuh-uh, success story Hermione Granger couldn't possibly do that," Hayley's tone sounded slightly bitter. "After all, a marriage ending with a friendly split, that's not too much of a failure, really. But a relationship with rich, perfect, highly publicised Draco Malfoy? That ending, that would be failure. In front of _everyone_." Hayley laughed, still with the bitter undertone. "I bet you never let people know when you got bad marks in anything in school, huh? I _know_ you'll never admit when you don't know something. You hate being clueless, but being clueless in front of everybody -"

"Stop it, Hayley," Hermione said sharply, trying to ignore the cutting truth in her friend's words. "What's the matter?"

Hayley sat there, suddenly looking a little lost. "I don't know," she admitted. "I just… Hermione, you have an amazing guy who loves you. Brilliant children – I mean, bratty sometimes, but brilliant in general. Really close friends who look out for you. You've even got a _career_, and look at me, a secretary!"

"You don't have to be a secretary," Hermione said, frustrated. "I've been trying to persuade you to do night school for years. Hell, even day school, I'll pay for you if you want, I more than owe it to you – you work like a partner for secretary pay. Why don't you just study magical law yourself, you already know enough to pass all the classes!"

"Maybe I will," Hayley said, very quietly.

"_What_?" Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Finally! _Yes_! All right! I'll have it organised by tomorrow!" Part of Hermione was relieved they'd left the subject of her own flaws, and moved onto this far more optimistic topic. Another, larger part of her, was thrilled at the idea of Hayley finally getting the recognition she finally deserved – it was _hard_, paying Hayley so much less than she earned because she was too proud to accept any more than an average secretary got, and just as hard to only see her own name in the papers about an important case.

"Hey, don't go overboard," Hayley warned her, sounding a little more normal. "I said _maybe_."

"Good enough," Hermione said gleefully. "Oh, I am going to find the best course possible for you. Even I have to threaten them with litigation to get them to let you in at such short notice! I mean, why on earth have you stayed here for years, as much as I love you – Hayley, you're _smart_, you're the type of person who changes the world!"

"I thought you were that type of person," teased Hayley, the ghost of a smile appearing on her face.

Suddenly, Hermione thought back to the first debate she'd had with Draco. The night after they'd met again on the platform. About whether she was really making a difference. And certainly, Hermione wasn't making a difference now, was she? Helping gold-diggers screw over their husbands and jerks take all their money to Bimbo Wife Make II. "Maybe I am that type of person," she said, suddenly sombre. "Well, maybe I was. But we can always use more people who want to change the world."

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**Well, uh, last chapter I got a hell of a response. Mainly by people hating Hayley and Draco. Seriously, do you think either of them would do that? In this story I was trying to make everyone screw up and be the bad guy at least once, because in real life that's sorta what happens – we screw up, kiss the wrong people, say the wrong things, hurt the people we care about. But I wasn't going to have Hayley and Draco get together – yeah, I'm doing a lot of Home and Away-esque relationships here, but I _do_ want there to be a happy ending for Draco and Hermione, and I think that would kinda put the kibosh on _that_. I wasn't even going to update – you know, flu – but there were so many people so annoyed with Hayley I felt I had to! Sorry if this chap's a little rough – that's why.**

**Please, reviewers, just remember this – _I am not a writer_. I'm studying to be an _accountant_, for God's sakes, so don't expect me to be an incredible author! I'm just doing my best, and trying to make a good story. I'm sorry if you're disappointed by it but I really am trying my hardest. As to the person who asked if I was replaced by a meatball, I am _trying_ to change my story to make it better. I really do listen to negative reviewers, but I have only a limited talent here – _very_ limited – and I'm sorry, but this is the best I can do. If you really don't like the way it's going, just copy the story up to the point you do like it, and then continue it on your own. Call it Never Say No 2, or whatever, and make sure you tell me where it is, and I will read it.**


	29. What A Waste

"Okay, Rosie, I'll see you next holidays," Ron hugged his favourite child. Well, Rose hadn't always been his favourite child, but since Hugo was spending today with the amazing bouncing ferret Rose had definitely gotten a promotion. "Remember – try and spend more time with the Griffindors."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Fine, Dad," For a second she hesitated, looking much younger, and then she blurted out, "You and Mum. You're going to work things out, aren't you? You're not really going to divorce?"

"I told you, Rosie," Ron said patiently. "Your mother's overreacting a bit about some things I said and did, and as soon as she's dealt with that, we'll work it out. I will do everything I can to make sure things are the way they should be. Plus, I've got some time, because the lovely magistrate told us we needed to have couples' counselling first. By the time you get home again everything will be normal-"

"Right," said Rose. On impulse, she hugged him again. "Okay, bye now. I've got to find Link. Rob's family took him and Scorpy back, so it's just going to be the two of us." Rose blushed happily.

Ron looked after her with some alarm as she trotted of towards the train. "_Griffindors_, Rosie! Spend time with _Griffindors_!"

Rose raised a hand in farewell without turning around.

Ron felt someone tap his shoulder and turned around quickly. When he saw it was Harry, he relaxed. "Oh, hey, mate. What's up?"

"The paper says you and 'Mione are divorcing," Harry said angrily. "Why didn't you tell me and Ginny? Why didn't _she_ tell us?"

"It's just temporary," Ron began, and then stopped and frowned, remembering the last piece. "Wait. Does the paper say anything about Draco Malfoy in this article?" Harry dug in his bag and then silently passed the _Daily Prophet _over.

HERMIONE DUMPS RON FOR HER SUGAR DADDY

_Yes, the famous Weasley couple are getting a divorce. And why is that? As this paper recently reported – exclusively – Hermione has been playing away with Draco Malfoy. Seduced by the wily brunette, he left his wife and child for her. But this paper is horrified to report that that isn't all he did._

_Draco Malfoy (37) also recently emptied one of his bank accounts. The mysterious disappearance of such a large amount of money went unquestioned until now, when the _Daily Prophet_ started to investigate. It was expected that we would discover something similar to Lucius Malfoy's old dealings - brothels, illegal magical black markets, and funding groups of Death Eater sympathisers. Instead, we found something just as morally questionable – one of his employees, Balthazar Philips (54), admitted the whole thing after careful questioning by this reporter._

"_Thanks for the drink," he said, looking woeful. "Nobody has bought me a drink before. Hey, it tastes a little funny, what's in this?" When asked about his employer's activities, he responded with absolute truthfulness. "Draco Malfoy asked me to check out some things – on behalf of Hermione Weasley, but also without her knowledge. I found that her husband had heavy gambling debts. He then asked me to pay some of the debts off using his money."_

_Of course, blaming Ron Weasley (37) for these debts is clearly ridiculous. As a prominent auror, war hero, and loving family man, the obvious assumption is that he pretended they were his to cover up the fact that his wife was gambling using another man's money – presumably because she'd run through all of Ron's first…_

Ron looked up, deciding he'd read enough. "That bastard," he breathed. "I thought you paid off those debts?"

"No," Harry said flatly. "I _told_ you that Ginny and I had nothing to do with it. You know, you've got to talk to these people, this gambling thing could really hurt 'Mione's career -"

Ron looked up at him. "You're taking _her_ side?"

"No," Harry stressed. "Damn it, Ron, I'm not taking anyone's side. Hermione's like my sister, and you're like my brother. You were a pillock and gambled everything away, and Hermione's leaving you – I blame you _both_." When Ron glared at him, Harry added. "I mean, I'm blaming _neither of you_. Not at all. These things happen sometimes -"

"Shut up, mate," Ron stared down at the paper again. "They must be sleeping together. They _must_. Otherwise why would he have paid off the debts, if he wasn't sleeping with her?"

"He could be sleeping with you?" Harry suggested helpfully, rolling his eyes. "I really doubt Hermione would do anything like that, Ron. She's a wonderful person. Which brings me back to the point about gambling accusations and her career -"

"I can't believe she cheated on me," Ron's face started to turn red. "_Bitch_. I accused her of it and she lied to my face! I have to find proof -"

"What? Ron, _listen_ to me," Harry said, starting to feel annoyed. "Hermione's not a cheater, she's never been one. You can't let the _Daily Prophet_ say these things about her. I mean, it was one thing to laugh these articles off when we were kids, but now we _have_ kids and this media stuff is bad for them."

"She left some things at the old house that were delivered to me at the Burrow," Ron said thoughtfully, ignoring Harry completely. "There must be something there. Maybe I can find something…" his face was tomato red now, but he still managed to speak calmly.

"Ron," Harry said, seriously alarmed now. "What are you going to do?"

Ron looked at his best friend and smiled calmly. "Nothing. I'm just going to drink a bit to calm myself down, see what I can find. I'll be fine. Bye," Ron apparated, forgetting that he'd driven here. "And then," he said in an undertone as the world started to blur around him. "I'm going to kill that fucking ferret."

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"How come you aren't seeing Scorpy off?" Hugo asked curiously.

Draco shrugged. "He wanted to go with Rob and his parents, straight to Hogwarts. He didn't need me." He tried to hide the hurt in that sentence. In truth, it hadn't really been the best holiday – at first Scorpius had been stand-offish, and then downright rude, and then when Draco had finally lost his temper and yelled at him, they'd argued for ages. Eventually they'd made up and had some fun days together, but then Scorp had chosen to go back to Hogwarts with Rob. Draco knew it was probably just adolescent moodiness, but still… being a father was _hard_.

"Oh," Hugo said. He swallowed. "Are you sure this is what you want to do today?"

"Come on, Hugo," Draco said gently. "Until you fell you were doing great with this whole flying business. The fall was months ago – it's time to get back up on the broomstick." The truth was that Draco was very aware that students who couldn't fly – especially male students – were often teased at Hogwarts. It would be better for him to get on now, instead of waiting so long that his fear would be amplified.

Well, that's what Draco thought. He wasn't exactly an expert. I wonder, Draco thought ruefully, does every parent do this? Just make it up as they go along? Suddenly he realised what he'd though and flushed. Hugo is not your son. He is the Weasel's son. Remember that, he told himself sternly.

"If you say so," said Hugo, his hand trembling as he reached it out. The broomstick jumped into it before he'd even tried to summon it. "Look, it's missed me!"

"I bet," Draco said, smiling. "Come on, you know what to do. We'll stick together this time, it'll be easy. We just have to remember not to go North because there's an actual adult Quidditch game over there, and I'd hate for you to be accidentally mistaken for a Seeker," he joked.

To his surprise, Hugo laughed at his lame joke. "That would be so cool. Imagine if I won the game."

Draco and Hugo pushed off at the exact same moment. Draco tried to stay close enough to Hugo to intervene if anything went wrong, but far enough so that it wouldn't seem he was hovering. Hugo unexpectedly did a loop, nearly giving Draco a heart attack. Still, he covered up the second of fear he'd had and yelled "Well done!"

It was actually far scarier for Draco than Hugo. Children can bounce back from things going wrong – fears heal nearly as quickly as injuries for them, sometimes. But for the adults who watch, unable to stop bad things from happening to the ones they love, some fears don't fade. However, if you care enough, than no matter how scary it is, you have to let them risk falling.

Eventually they landed on the ground, out of breath. "Wooh," Hugo said, fanning his face. "That was _awesome_. Can we do this again next week?"

Draco hesitated. "Listen, Hugo… I'm really sorry about this. I've had a business opportunity… I wanted to tell you at a better time," he said quickly. "But the thing is, it's looking likely I'll be going to New York next week. I mean, we can write to each other, and I'll come back eventually – I'm really going to miss you." And he was, Draco reflected, but he really did need to get away from Hermione. Changing continents might not even be enough, but when he'd been offered the temporary job in a new hospital over there he'd jumped at it anyway. "We'll still be friends…"

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To the north of them, George was standing in a tree. To call it _a_ tree, in fact, seemed kind of insulting – it was more like _the_ tree. Back when the field had originally been created, somebody had cast a protective spell on the tree, and it had somehow rebounded oddly. The result was a tree more than double the size of what muggles termed the biggest tree in the world. Of course, it was hidden from them.

Nearly every year there were arguments about whether it should be cut down to make room for a second Quidditch pitch, right beside the first one, but the answer was always no. In fact, George doubted it _could_ be cut down.

He thought it would stand forever. Which is what made one of its million branches the best hiding place possible for the Resurrection Stone. George carefully turned the ring three times.

"Hey," Fred said casually. "Kind of high, aren't we? What's up?"

"I'm doing what you said," George said, shivering in the wind. "Getting rid of the ring. Are you sure? Even I won't be able to find this exact branch again -"

"Hey, I told you, I want my eternal rest," Fred paused to consider. "Actually, I just want to disrupt other people's eternal rest, but that's just as enjoyable. Pranking in the afterlife is even more fun because people get shocked easier." Fred looked at his brother and smiled. "I'm serious, George. Let me go. Don't be a martyr."

"I prefer Hugo's version," George croaked, clinging to the branch. "It was much easier not to be a mattress." He crawled in closer to the middle of this particular storm of wood and twigs. He looked over to Fred. "Bye."

"Bye," Fred said cheerfully.

George turned back to the branch, feeling like there should have been something more. Like it shouldn't be easy-come-easy-go. But really, any emotional farewelling would have been far too serious for either of them. He carefully pushed the ring down one of the twigs, muttering a few spells to make it stick there. George also ensured that the twig wouldn't drop off, and after a second's thought, also covered the ring over with some leaves. He doubted anyone would ever find it.

George turned around. His twin brother was no longer standing there. He couldn't help his eyes getting wet. Lost him again, George thought sadly, I've lost him again.

In a swift movement, George grabbed the broom he'd wedged between two branches and hopped onto it. He left the tree in a steep dive, avoiding branches that could kill him by inches or less. As soon as he emerged from the vast thicket, Angelina grabbed his arm.

"You idiot, you haven't flown for years," she yelled through the wind. "You could've gotten hurt. What were you doing in that tree, anyway? The game starts in five minutes, we don't have time to get another Beater now!" As if in contrast to her annoyed words, she did a loop-the-loop on her broom. George matched it, and laughed at the sheer joy of flying again. "Your face is all wet," Angelina said, noticing.

"Nah, just streaming in the wind," George lied.

"Seriously?" Angelina said, starting to talk normally as they went lower. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," George laughed at the idea. His wife was so beautiful, there, with her messy dark hair and annoyed expression. His kids were beautiful, too. His life was beautiful. The _world_ was beautiful, with its bright skies and dark corners and deep oceans. He might have forgotten that for a while, but he wouldn't forget again. Fred was right. "There's absolutely nothing the matter. Race you back to the pitch!"

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Ron had no luck on his first go through the pile of miscellaneous stuff Hermione hadn't bothered to collect. But on his second go through, in the pocket of an old coat, he hit pay dirt.

Well, that's what he thought. By this time Ron had gone through quite a lot of Firewhiskey, but he was still sure it must be significant. There was only an address written there – "That must be where they've been meeting," Ron said out loud. He knew how ridiculous a thought that was, in the small part of him which was sober, but Drunk Ron was definitely the dominant personality at present. It was probably a good thing that Arthur had dragged Molly with him to see the car show, and their youngest son was alone in the house.

"I'm gonna…" Ron burped. "Gonna found – I mean, find – the ferret's hole," he smiled charmingly at the bottle, to whom he was addressing his comments. "Know the street. Should be simple. Hurt bastard."

Because his first few attempts at apparating just led to him throwing up, eventually Ron decided to walk. When he reached the apartment he slammed on the door straight away, yelling "Come out, ferrety bastard! Come out – oh, it's you." By this time, Ron had sobered up a little from the walk, and he flushed when Astoria opened the door. She was only wearing her underwear and an annoyed expression. "I'm sorry, I thought… why does my wife have your address?"

Suddenly Astoria remembered the card she'd given weeks back. "It's not my address," she lied quickly. "Well, it is now, but it used to be Draco's. For business meetings, he said." She smiled sweetly at Ron. "Read the papers, huh? I told you they were sleeping together. Want to come in?"

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It was nearly three hours later when Ron's long talk with Astoria ended. They were down several bottles of Firewhiskey by then.

"So then," Astoria concluded. "Draco says, 'I'm sorry if I hurt you, but I was just mad at Hermione' and he's all 'Oh I'm a horrible person' and I'm all 'oh you really are', but he's thinking about _her_." Astoria snorted. "I mean, s'sly. I'm hotter than her. Really. Really I am. Hottererer."

Ron fell off his chair laughing. "Thass… thass not a word…"

"Whatever, Mr Brittanica," Astoria said grumpily. "Yes, you be a know-it-all. _That'll_ win you back Ms Perfect." She laughed too. "Actually, it might, huh? She likes the knowers."

"Too smart!" Ron said thickly, raising an arm. "Yes yes I know the answer and you're wrong. She was the man of the house. Always had to better than me."

"You're better," Astoria declared. "Really better. I like red-haired people. You're better than Hermione."

"Better than Draco?"

"No way in hell,' Astoria said sadly. "But that's genes. Ain't your fault. Wanna have sex?" She stripped her top off.

The suddenness of the move nearly shocked Ron into sobriety. "What? But I can't – I mean, 'Mione -"

"Would never even have to know," completed Astoria smoothly. Ron started to suspect she hadn't been as drunk as she'd acted. "I'm sure you're sober enough… I am too… and it'll get them. Revenge sex is always really hot. I should know, Draco had some with me just the other day," she said, watching him. "Because for once your little wifey wouldn't put out. Even though he paid for her…" Even Astoria herself wasn't certain what her motivation for this one was – it seemed too much like wife-swapping, it grossed her out a bit. But she was drunk and revenge sex _was_ hot and everybody else in what she'd termed The Game seemed to be having more sex than her. Hell, she hadn't slept with anyone but Draco for more than fifteen years – it was time to break her duck. "Come on," she stripped off her bra as well, now half-naked. "They'll never have to know…"

"You're right," said Ron, hypnotized by her body. "Just once… no one will ever have to know…"

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**Yeah... more complications... but I promise you there's a reason.**

**Wow, I totally can't feel my fingers... it's two in the morning and I just got plastered in front of my bf's parents... awkward...but fun at pub which is always fun. Hopefully I member to delete this AN in the morning but right now I'm too a) exhausted b) drunk to bother. Hope you like this chapter...**


	30. His Choice

Hermione and Ron were walking together and talking – well, arguing. "I don't believe you, Hermione," Ron said stubbornly, "The ferret wouldn't have paid that kind of money if you weren't sleeping together."

"We're not sleeping together," Hermione said frostily. "In fact, according to Hugo, he's leaving for America tomorrow morning."

"Right," Ron glared at her. "And he just paid all your debts for fun?"

Hermione didn't bother to remind him that they were his debts. "Huh," Hermione said, staring at the building. When she'd imagined a counsellor's office, it had been a lot more official. This was more like a cottage – except painted in much brighter colours. The flowers also appeared to be daisies from a distance, but when she'd gotten closer she'd realised they were the biting kind. She rechecked the address yet again – yes, this was the place. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

"Hermione," Ron lectured. "You have to take this seriously! This is our attempt to fix our marriage."

Hermione stared at him like he'd gone insane. "No, it's not. It's my attempt to get this divorce to go through faster. If the counsellor says we're too dysfunctional to work things out we can get divorced much sooner. Apparently Judy Gauldings respects this counsellor immensely." She turned to stare at the house, which even Luna might have found over-the-top in its wackiness. "Though I'm wondering why."

"Perhaps I'm very skilled?" a voice came from besides Hermione. She was short, with tiny black eyes, and wearing a headdress that reminded Hermione of paintings she'd seen showing Katherine of Aragon. The woman smiled. "I'm Dr Gladys Gaddington, but you can call me Gladys. My, you two are early."

"Very eager," Hermione said tightly, clutching her purse tightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be offensive -"

"Of course not, come inside," Gladys bustled into the house and put on a kettle. "You two sit down over there, near the Sneakoscope."

"Wait, _what_?" Hermione said, shocked. "We're speaking around a magical item that will make a noise if we lie? That doesn't seem ethical."

"One sugar or two?" The witch said cheerfully, beaming up at Hermione. "Goodness, so official, Hermione. May I call you Hermione? And Ronald, of course -"

"Ron," he interrupted, sitting down next to the Sneakoscope. Inwardly he was exulting – _now_ he would get to hear about Hermione's affair. He wanted the truth. "So the Sneakoscope helps you interrogate people?"

Gladys frowned. "What a negative view of counselling! Or is that because of your years as an auror? Perhaps you've lost a little trust, in a job like that. And maybe a little morality too? They say that aurors often become more like the very criminals they're chasing." She looked at him inquiringly.

Ron flushed. "I haven't done anything wrong -" the Sneakoscope whistled. "I haven't done anything _criminal_, anyway."

Hermione sat beside him, feeling awkward. "What do lawyers become, if aurors become more like the people they chase?"

"Liars, frequently," Gladys said complacently, coming over with the tea tray. "Oh, they don't mean to, I'm sure, but a large part of law is lying by omission. It creeps into them. Do you lie more frequently then you used to?"

"Much more," admitted Hermione. She picked up her tea. "But I'm trying to sort it out – I mean, I used to have ironclad morals. Maybe the divorce will help me get back to that. I think it will, a bit."

"Good, good," Gladys smiled at her. "I'm glad. But then, I'm always Glad, aren't I? Isn't that funny." Ron laughed sycophantically, and then stopped when the Sneakoscope started to spin. "Yes, it even picks up dishonesty in actions, really. A clever little thing… not very useful on politeness, though."

"How many sessions of this will we need?" Hermione asked point-blank. "Before you decide we do really want a divorce?"

"As many as it takes, there's no set number," Gladys sipped her tea. "Ah, that's lovely. Tea is a thing for truly civilised people, don't you think?"

"Yes, I suppose," Hermione said politely, disconcerted. She wasn't used to people evading her questions. "Is the Sneakoscope strictly necessary? I mean, couldn't you just trust that we're telling the truth?"

"It's not that I don't trust you," Gladys began. The Sneakoscope went off and she paused. "Actually, that's quite true, I don't particularly trust you. People lie whenever it suits their purposes." She beamed at Hermione. "Besides, I've found that sessions are much more helpful with the Sneakoscope -" It went off. "I mean, slightly more helpful -" It went off. "Fine, I've no idea if it's actually more helpful or less helpful. But it is _far_ more interesting for me." The Sneakoscope sat there, silent. "See? It even helps me learn to be more honest."

"All right," Hermione said grudgingly. They sat there in silence for several minutes, all of them sipping their tea.

Finally it was Ron who spoke. "Shouldn't we… er… be doing something? You know, talking?"

"Oh!" Gladys sat up straighter, flustered. "I'd quite forgotten. Now, sometimes I ask questions, or sometimes we play a game. Personally I prefer the games – we can do questions later. Now, one of you will say a sentence, and the other will repeat it. You start, Hermione."

"Um," Hermione said, unsure. "I like French food?"

"Perfect!" Gladys clapped her hands like a schoolgirl. "Starting with something so unimportant, to set you both at ease. I'm very convinced your marriage has an excellent chance, though I can't be too sure at this point. But still! Ronald, repeat the sentence."

"I like French food," Ron said. The Sneakoscope went off.

Gladys smiled. "See? We've learnt something about Ron, and about you, Hermione. Knowing each other is the key to a successful marriage."

"What about a successful divorce?" Hermione wanted to know.

She was ignored. "Now, Ronald, you say a sentence for Hermione to repeat."

"I haven't seen Draco Malfoy for weeks," Ron said, quick as a flash.

Hermione glared at him. "I have seen him. But I'll repeat it anyway: I haven't seen Draco Malfoy for weeks." The Sneakoscope went off, but Hermione continued talking. "Now, I'll just say straight out what you want to know: Ihave _never _slept with anyone but you."

"Really?" Ron said, agog. The Sneakoscope didn't go off. "But – I thought – you – Malfoy -"

"I made a promise to you," Hermione said grimly. "I regret it, and I don't like you for imposing it, but so long as you keep up your side of the bargain I will too."

"Ron, remember, you have to repeat Hermione's statement," Gladys chided. "Now, repeat: I have _never_ slept with anyone but you."

Ron squirmed, looking trapped. "But… we know 'Mione hasn't, and she was the one…" he quailed under their gazes. "Fine. I have never slept with -" The Sneakoscope went off so loudly and brightly it made Hermione flinch.

"Jeez," she said, shocked. "Ron, who have you slept with? Did you sleep with Lavender back then? I _thought_ you were lying when you said it hadn't gone that far -"

"Sorry," Ron said, going with it.

Hermione paused, suddenly suspicious. "You _did_ sleep with Lavender, right?"

Ron nodded very slightly, and the Sneakoscope proclaimed it as a lie. He coughed. "'Mione…"

"Was this while we were dating? Married? _When_, Ron?" Hermione felt outraged.

Ron coughed again, and muttered, "Liswek," in a very small voice. He stared up at Hermione imploringly.

"What did you say, Ron?" Hermione said threateningly.

"Last week," Ron finally admitted. "It was just… I was just… it was her fault, she tricked me…"

Hermione didn't need the Sneakoscope to tell her that was a blatant lie, although it did confirm it loudly. She stood up. "You slept with someone else. After you made that bargain with me, to stay single for a year."

"'Mione, I'm sorry -" Ron began.

Hermione felt a grin breaking out on her face. "I'm not. Thank you, Ron. I've been wondering, all this time, if divorcing you was wrong – but now you've proved it's right. It's so _right_. Now I don't have to feel guilty anymore."

Gladys frowned. "Now, dear, he made one mistake -"

"No," Hermione felt glad to spill out her annoyance at Ron. "He made _lots of_ mistakes. Gambling away all our money. Telling Rose we were getting back together when we're not – I got a letter form her this morning, by the way, saying what you told her. And when Hugo spent Thursday and Friday with you he came back and _congratulated_ me on divorcing you – I don't know what on earth you did, but Hugo seems to have switched to Team Draco on this one. Losing our house, that was a big one. Continually insulting me. Not doing any housework at all for the last year. Sleeping with another woman? Just the tip of the iceberg."

"Oh," Gladys said faintly, turning to look at Ron. "Well, if you really -"

"Hayley was right," Hermione said loudly. She wasn't really talking to the others anymore – she was looking at the Sneakoscope, trying to figure out if she was still lying to herself. Would it sound if she believed her own lies? Hermione didn't know. "She said I was hanging on to your conditions as an excuse not to be with Draco. Well, that's my last excuse gone – you found someone else, and now I can too." Hermione laughed, feeling free for the first time in ages. "And you know what? Now I don't have an excuse… and I'm going to take the risk. He's worth the risk. Frankly, he might be worth _any_ risk… I mean, sure, he screws up. But he fixes more than he screws up, which is a huge step up from you, Ronald. Screw excuses! And Draco loves me," Hermione frowned. "Well, _loved_ me. He said it was the last chance. He said I had no more chances, and I chose you, and I've regretted that every moment since. But maybe he still cares enough… maybe there's still one more chance… I'm leaving."

"You're going to someone else?" Gladys said, sounding shocked. "But this is… I mean… what about…"

"I'll sue you for the kids, just you watch," Ron said, furious. The Sneakoscope went off and he flushed even darker. "Well… I'll tell them this is your fault."

"They're smarter than you think, Ron," Hermione smiled. "And I am too. And now, I'm free. I love Draco so much, and he feels – well, felt – the same way about me. You go and have sex with whoever you're sleeping with, _I don't care_. I'm finally free."

Hermione practically danced out the door. As soon as she was on the way to Draco's, though, doubts started attacking her. He'd been so angry the last time they spoke… he had slept with Astoria… he was leaving for America…

Hermione ruthlessly squashed them. She loved Draco too much not to try. It was a risk… but wasn't the bigger risk not to try? To never know if she could have fixed it?

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Draco frowned when he heard the knock at the door. "Bloody Astoria," he muttered under his breath. Lately, whenever he heard someone at the door, it was always Astoria, yelling insults and threats at him. Hermione never came near him, and Hayley had been avoiding him too recently, perhaps because of the kiss. Maybe she was worried it would be awkward?

"Astoria, you bitch," Draco began, then stopped when he saw it was Hermione. She was practically spinning on the spot, her eyes lit up. The bushy brown hair he loved was nearly crackling with electricity – it was the passionate Hermione, the stubborn, bossy one, the one he'd fallen in love with. When he looked at her like this he couldn't even see the far more passive doormat long marriage with the Weasel had turned her into. "Hermione? What are you doing here?"

Hermione went up a step, so her eyes were nearly the same height as his. She stared at him, like she was trying to figure something out. "You said you loved me," she finally said. "And, you know, love doesn't just go away. And I know you're leaving for America tomorrow -"

"'Mione? What -" Draco started to say, surprised, but Hermione shushed him.

"Be quiet, let me finish this first. Fourteen years ago… well, nearly fifteen… I ran into you at a café. We talked about our lives. You made the most sense out of everyone, even though we were enemies then," Hermione swallowed, a little nervous. "You told me this one thing that I thought was the most incredible thing ever. That if you loved someone, truly loved them, you could never say no. And I loved you… but I was too scared… to say yes to everything. But I'm sorry for that. And the thing is, if you love me, that means you'll say yes."

"To what?" Draco felt himself flush a little. "Another secret relationship? Hermione, I -"

"No," Hermione interrupted. "To this. Please, Draco… I want us to be together. Really, fully together. So my question is…" she swallowed again, even more terrified now. "Will you stay here in England, Draco?"

"No."

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**Ah, the second-last chapter. Hope you like it.**


	31. Forever

"Oh," Hermione said faintly. He said _no_? But I thought… She turned and started to leave, practically at a run, but he grabbed her wrist. "Let me _go!_"

"No, 'Mione, listen -" Draco began. She struggled against him but he pulled her closer. "I'm not saying no to _you_… just to _staying_. I can't. There was a major magical accident in NY and I'm one of the highest-ranking Healers to be called there. I _need_ to go. I can't let sick people down… I don't even have time to find a replacement…"

"Oh," said Hermione, relaxing a bit. "Right. Okay. How long will you be gone? We can talk about this when you get home -"

"No," Draco said yet again. "Let's talk about this now." He paused. "I love you, Hermione Granger, and I would love it even more if you could come to America with me."

"What?" Hermione was shocked. "But -"

"It's only for six weeks, we'll be back in time for Scorpy and Rose's holidays," Draco said persuasively. "I've got a really good apartment there. We could spend time together when I'm off-duty, and you could see New York with Hugo when I'm working."

"Hugo?" Hermione queried. "How did Hugo get involved in this?"

"Well, we're hardly going to leave him behind," Draco said placidly. "He has to come."

"He hates the idea of us together," Hermione said flatly. "He'd never agree -"

"I don't know," Draco grinned. "Apparently the Weasel said some very insulting things about me in front of Hugo – Hugo owled me on Friday telling me he wished that I was his father, and that he wanted to go to New York with me."

"_Really_?" Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Ron, you idiot. But Draco, even if Hugo wants to come, he's got school. And I've got work – even more work now that Hayley's started school. I can't leave."

Draco nodded sagely. "Oh, absolutely. It would be _irresponsible_."

"Yeah," Hermione suddenly found she couldn't stop staring at his mouth.

"_Reckless_…" Draco drawled, and Hermione felt her breath going short. She was never reckless or irresponsible – that had always been part of Hermione Granger's character, responsibility. But right now the words were starting to seem incredibly alluring to her.

"Yeah," she said weakly. "Reckless." Damn it, she wished she wasn't Hermione Granger the Responsible! Wasn't this exactly what she'd been talking to Harry about the other week? The stereotypes they made for themselves?

"_Wild_," Draco breathed, his face now ridiculously close to her. As she was nodding, he kissed her lightly on her mouth, and then whispered against it "_Happy_."

Hermione drew back, and grinned. "Oh, screw this. I'm going to _America_!" Then she frowned. "Except, no, I can't. There's no way I can get tickets in time -"

Draco coughed, suddenly looking embarrassed. "What if somebody had already purchased two extra tickets, just in case?"

For a second Hermione stared at him, and then she burst into laughter. "Oh, you – arrogant – bastard -" she hit him on the shoulder lightly to emphasise each word, still laughing.

"I prefer to think of it as hopeful," Draco drawled, unabashed. "Now come on, we've got to owl Hugo and tell him to start packing."

"Why don't we just go to the school and tell him in person?" Hermione teased.

"Well," Draco pulled her against him, his hands moving lightly up her back. "I've got some things I'd like to think you couldn't say no to…"

"Oh?" Hermione stealthily moved a hand up his shirt. "What kinds of things would these be?"

Draco leaned forward and kissed her until she was breathless. "I was thinking we find out exactly how compatible we are…"

"Doing those _Witch Weekly_ couple tests?" Hermione managed to smile, though her heart was pounding very hard. "I don't know, they take some time… I'd rather have _sex_…" She couldn't help blushing a little bit, damaging her wanton act.

"Bitch," Draco laughed, and kissed her again, harder, his hands moving to interesting places as he pulled her into the house. "Well, are you going to say yes, then?"

"Yes," Hermione moaned as his hands grew more insistent. "Yes, yes, yes…!"

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ANYWHERE YOU GO I'LL FOLLOW YOU: The Love Story of the Year

_The _Daily Prophet_ is reporting on the most incredible story of love, betrayal, family, and hope for the future. Hermione Weasley has made the decision to follow her heart and leave her long-time husband, gambling addict and liar Ronald Weasley. As this paper has previously reported, Ronald (37) has large gambling debts that he blamed on his wife, and that were eventually paid by handsome mystery man Draco Malfoy._

_Draco (37) and Hermione (37) have a dark and troubled past relationship – one filled with hatred and bitterness. On opposing sides of the War, childhood enemies, a pureblood and a muggle-born… the objective viewer would believe that the two could never even be friends, much less fall in love. However, a close friend of Hermione's confided to us that love truly does conquer all: "They're like the Romeo and Juliet of this generation," reveals Felicia Green (43), who works in the office next to Hermione. "I've often seen him coming into the office, a look of love and hope on his handsome chiselled face. I knew all about it, of course, even though Hermione wasn't saying anything – she's far too loyal to Rob. I mean, Ron."_

_After Ron Weasley began to behave so badly, it's really no surprise that Hermione felt herself free to love again. At present, she has gone to New York following the love of her life, Draco. Accompanying her is her son, Hugo, who is aged nine. Hugo is believed to have come to terms with the relationship, though his sister Rose (11) was unavailable to comment. However, in the divorce case, it appears that Hermione Granger will gain main custody of both children, thanks partly to the professional opinion of couples counsellor Gladys Gladdington. "Ronald Weasley is a victim of arrested development," she famously proclaimed. "While he is able to look after his children, I would recommend that the majority of their time is spent with their mother." On the basis of this testimony judge Judy Gauldings made the unprecedented decision to hasten the divorce process._

_Though many malicious nay-sayers have called Hermione a bad mother, a cheater, or claimed the gambling debts are hers, we at the _Daily Prophet_ refuse to listen to these slanderous lies. Hermione Granger, as a war hero, is surely above reproach, and a Healer as recognized as Draco Malfoy would certainly never stoop to adultery. In fact, it's been discovered that one of the primary reasons for his divorce from Astoria Greengrass – an atrocious wife and mother who sold her tawdry story to _Witch Weekly_ in a pathetic attempt to garner sympathy – was in fact her assault on their son, Scorpius (11), with a metal hairbrush. Scorpius is also unavailable for comment, as he attends Hogwarts with Rose Weasley._

_Rumours are also flying that Draco Malfoy recently saved Hugo Weasley's life, though this paper is unsure how true this can possibly be – while it would be entirely in his character, the likelihood of this being real is very small. Whether this is in fact true, it is undeniable that Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are both exemplary examples of citizens, parents, spouses and ultimately people._

_Speculation on their approaching wedding –_

Draco tore his eyes away from the paper and laughed aloud. So, now they were the heroes. The _Daily Prophet_ really were a bunch of -

Hermione came down the stairs, wearing just her pajamas and a fretful expression. She wanted to see the NY book fair today. "Draco? What are you doing, hurry up!"

"It's my day off," Draco pointed out, wounded. "I can spend the whole day without hurrying."

Hermione glared at him, and then suddenly smiled wickedly, her eyes narrowing a little. "True. I should warn you, though, Hugo will be back from the kid's tour before you know it." She let one of the sleeves of her pajama top fall, revealing a creamy shoulder. "And you promised me that we'd spend some time at the book fair before then." Hermione fluttered her eyelashes at him, and let the other sleeve fall a little. "But if you _want_ to spend all our spare time reading the paper when we could be -"

With a growl, Draco leapt up and chased after her as she fled upstairs, laughing. He couldn't help smiling too as he pursued her into their bedroom, jumbled from hours spent doing anything but sleeping. And then he wasn't smiling at all, or thinking at all, except for the one thought that floated to the top as he kissed her creamy skin:

Draco Malfoy had finally found a woman he knew he could never say no to.

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**So, this is the end of my story. I hope you enjoyed it. This story is dedicated to:**

**Christine Glen Haven, for being the most incredible reviewer imaginable. Sometimes I think I would have stopped writing this long ago if not for your reviews. Also thanks to Dustmites, Smurfette Mariee, BadWolfRising and a couple of other regular reviewers who I can't think of off the top of my head, but who are just as amazing!**

**Hayley, for just walking into my head fully formed, stubborn, hot and inexplicably wise.**

**Naiya Kokoro, for recommending my story in their own fic.**

**JKR for writing a sexy bookworm and a hot blonde bad boy, and so creating the Dramione dream.**

**And lastly, my unending gratitude to **_**all**_** the people who took the time to review, and who thought my story was actually any good.**

**My last thing to say is: I have very little spare time, so it's probable I won't write another fic at least until next holidays, in about a month. If anyone has any suggestions for what I should write then, please tell me them!**

**Love, Fi**


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